


Her Beloved

by Emachinescat



Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Halloween, Mystery, Supernatural Elements, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A freshman at Bayport U, Joe is having nightmares that grow more vivid the closer it is to Halloween. He and Frank must solve a 100-year-old mystery of a brutal murder. Ghosts and killers lurk around every corner, determined to keep the truth hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Disney's The Haunted Mansion. Don't own either, for entertainment purposes only. Originally published on the Hardy Detective Agency; won 2nd place in the 2009 Halloween Story Contest.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

_**October 31, 1864** _

The handsome blonde man gazed deeply at his lover with dazzling blue eyes as they floated slowly across the ballroom floor. Around them swirled other colorful, masked dancers, the men in their best formal wear, the women in flowing, puffy gowns. The dancers were beautiful, but none were as graceful or elegant as the couple in the center of the room. The man leaned closer to the raven-haired beauty intertwined in his arms. As he held her close, he gently pressed his lips against her silky hair. She leaned into his embrace as he huskily whispered, "I love you."

He felt her tense in his arms, and this was when Joe Hardy knew he was dreaming. Despite the fact that his subconscious had recognized that he really wasn't in a ballroom, but in his bed, asleep, his mind refused to wake up and there was, once again, no escape from this nightmare. A sense of absolute dread filled him and he knew what was going to happen next almost as surely as he knew that there was nothing at all that he could do about it.

The blonde man drew the woman close to his heart and whispered imploringly, unrestrained emotion in his wavering voice, "Marry me."

The woman spoke then, with unsuppressed rage and venom dripping from her voice. "I don't think so," she snarled and from somewhere within the folds of her dress she pulled a large butcher knife. With no hesitation whatsoever, she drove the knife into the man's heart and wrenched it downward with surprising strength. Blood poured from his chest and abdomen as she stabbed him again…and again...

All the while, the other people at the ball just stood there, staring at the pair, one living, one already dead at his lover's feet. He was lying in a pool of his own blood and she was holding a knife, blood seeping through her clenched fingers.

While the guests at the party stared in shock, not roused into action quite yet, the woman lightly leapt over the prone, lifeless body of the man she had intended to marry and disappeared out of the ball room and into the night.

* * *

_**October 30, 2009 ~ 11:55 PM** _

"Joe! Joe! Wake up, man!"

Eighteen-year-old Joe Hardy woke up tangled in moist blankets, realizing that they were soaked with his own sweat—and tears. He took a deep, steadying breath and tried to push the vivid, haunting details of the horrendous nightmare out of his mind. His hands were still shaking badly as he glanced at the brown-headed, green-eyed young man standing over his bed. "Sorry, Matt—did I wake you?" Joe asked softly as his roommate, Matthew Parson, stifled a yawn.

Matt cocked an eyebrow at Joe and snorted in laughter. "You're kidding, right? It's not like this hasn't happened every night for the past three weeks!"

Joe sighed, knowing Matt was right. It was Joe's Freshman year at Bayport University, and he was glad to have been assigned a roommate as forgiving as Matt, especially with the recurring nightmares he had been experiencing. Granted, even though Joe and Matt had become fast friends and got along fairly well, Joe would still rather have his brother there by his side in the middle of the night, helping him deal with these irrational nightmares. That wasn't possible, however. There was no way he was going to run down the hallway to his brother's room every time something happened that unsettled him. He hadn't mentioned the dreams to his brother, insisting that his increasing weariness was a result of too much homework and stress—which was somewhat true. He did have a lot of homework.

As for the nightmares, Joe had no idea what they were about or why they had been plaguing him for three weeks. About mid-October, Joe had had a dream about a beautiful woman brutally murdering a blonde-haired man. The dream had disturbed him, but he had eaten Chinese takeout with a bunch of friends before going to bed that night, so he dismissed the dream as just that—a dream due to sushi and egg rolls, albeit a very disturbing one.

The dream had returned the next night, however. And the night after that. After a while, Joe had begun to notice that each night, they began to get more detailed and graphic…and longer. The dream had just started out as the murder, the intoxicatingly beautiful girl stabbing and gutting the blonde haired young man who always had his back facing Joe so he could never see his face. Then there were dancers…ball gowns…other people…music…

Each night, the dream had gotten just a bit more detailed, leading up to the one Joe had just experienced…the worst of all. He had seen the malicious look in the woman's eyes as she stabbed the man—the man that he had not previously recognized as her lover, but now knew it without a doubt. He had smelled the aroma of fresh baked bread and seen the sparkling glasses of wine. And—for the first time—he had been allowed to see the man who had been murdered, and it had made his blood run cold.

It's only a dream, it's only a dream.

The man was Joe.

"Joe. Hey, snap out of it, dude!" Joe started as Matt jerked him out of his reverie. "Hey, you're kind of freaking me out, man," Joe's roommate admitted, looking at Joe with a concerned look in his olive eyes. "Do you need me to get somebody—the R.A…? Your brother, maybe?"

Joe immediately shook his head. "Nah, don't worry about it, Matt. I'll be okay. It's just a nightmare."

Matt snorted as he crawled back into bed and turned off the lamp. "Yeah. Just a nightmare that's woken you up in tears for the past three weeks. I don't care what you say, Joe…psychology may not be my major, but even a business major can tell when there's something screwy going on in your brain—no offense."

"Nonetheless, I'm offended," Joe countered with a coy, yet shaky, grin that Matt couldn't see in the dark but could hear in his voice.

"Look, man," the concerned roommate said wearily. "I just think you need to tell someone about this. You and your bro are really close…just—just mention it to him tomorrow, maybe he can help you sort it all out…?"

Joe thought for a moment, then mumbled sleepily, "I'll think about it…"

When he woke up half an hour later screaming, Joe decided he had no choice—he had to talk to Frank. Tomorrow.

* * *

_**October 31, 2009 ~ Halloween Day** _

The next morning Matt's phone alarm woke Joe up at 6 A.M. Joe groaned as a screeching heavy metal song assaulted his already pounding head and he hoped fervently that Matt would just hurry up and turn the stupid thing off. He was exhausted.

Luckily, Matt rolled out of bed fairly quickly and shut off the alarm, mumbling a hasty apology to Joe before hastening into the bathroom. Five minutes later, Joe could hear the sound of the shower and Matt's off-tune rendition of the song that had woken them up just moments earlier.

Sighing, Joe dragged himself out of bed and quickly got dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt. He remembered the weather report for the day and slipped on a Bayport U sweatshirt. After lacing up his tennis shoes, Joe left his room and barreled straight into Frank, who looked more than a little surprised to see his "hibernating" brother out of bed so early.

"Uh, hey Joe," Nineteen-year-old Frank grinned at his "baby brother". "What gives? Your first class isn't until eleven; I should know because that's the one class we actually have together."

Joe stifled a yawn and nodded. "Yeah."

"Everything alright?" Frank was looking genuinely concerned.

Joe thought about his resolution he had made last night to tell Frank everything. It was easy to get worked up and scared at night, right after a particularly nasty recurring nightmare, but out here, in the lit hallway of Cunningham-Bryer Hall with Frank looking at him so concerned, so worried…in full over-protective big brother mode, it all seemed so silly…so juvenile.

"Joe?"

Joe shook his head forcefully. "No, everything's fine. Matt's alarm just woke me up early and…" He stopped, realizing he had made his fatal error. Now Frank knew something was wrong.

He gave Joe a searching, anxious look and said in a clipped tone, "Joe, you could sleep through a flippin' earthquake! The only thing that gets you up in the morning is your phone set on full volume going off right beside your head! There is no way on earth that Matt's phone could have woken you up if you were okay." His tone softened. "Joe, what's up? You know you can tell me anything."

Joe shook his head again, weaker this time, in protest. "Look, man, I've got to go…" he mumbled something about breakfast, but Frank just shook his head in amazement.

"Joe, c'mon. Let's go to the caf and grab some breakfast together. We can talk then, alright?"

Joe sighed, knowing Frank wouldn't rest until he got a straight answer from Joe. "Alright," he said, his voice subdued. "Let's eat."

* * *

Frank Hardy stared at his younger brother from across the table. Despite Joe's insistence on having to eat breakfast earlier, he was picking at his food and hadn't eaten a single bite. Frank sighed and looked at Joe more closely now that there was better lighting. He barely contained a gasp at his brother's appearance.

Joe's eyes were red and puffy, indicating that he had been crying very recently. There were dark circles under his eyes and Frank wondered how he could have missed them before. He mentally chided himself on letting his "brother hen meter", as Joe had so affectionately coined it a few years ago, slip up on its duties.

Joe noticed the scrutiny and glared at his brother. "Frank, will you please stop staring at me? I'm fine."

"Ah, baby brother," Frank sighed. "You are a horrible liar when it comes to your big brother…why can't you just tell me what's going on?"

At that moment, Matt sauntered up to the table along with his girlfriend, tan, honey-haired Clarissa Standifer. He looked at Joe with a satisfied smile. "So you decided to tell Frank, after all," he congratulated Joe airily, either oblivious or blatantly ignoring Joe's none-too-subtle gestures for him to shut up. "I knew you'd do the right thing, man." He clapped Joe heartily on the back, slipped his arm around Clarissa's waist, and strutted off to greet one of his business club buddies.

Joe seemed to be avoiding Frank's gaze. He only looked up at his brother when Frank said, ever so softly, "Joe."

"Frank, I'm sorry I didn't tell you!" Joe blurted in a rush. He was going to say more, but he a group of his friends were headed in their direction and he groaned in frustration.

Frank gently tugged on his brother's arm and guided him out of the cafeteria, leaving both plates untouched. "Hey, bro, we've still got an hour until class. Why don't you come up to my room and we'll talk, okay?"

Relieved that he wasn't going to have to bear this burden alone anymore, Joe Hardy meekly allowed his brother to effectively steer him away from the group of friends and back toward the dormitory.

* * *

From across the cafeteria, ignored by all who passed her by, almost as if she didn't exist, a strikingly beautiful, black-haired woman in a flowing ball gown adjusted the mask over her eyes and watched hungrily as the blonde boy left the cafeteria with his brother.

Soon enough, you will be mine…as you were always meant to be…

* * *

"…and then last night, I finally saw who the person being killed was, and it was—it was me," Joe finished telling Frank about his crazy barrage of dreams feeling distinctly crazy and angry at not understanding why he was going through this. His eyes wandered around the room that Frank and his roommate, Kevin, shared, from Frank's neatly framed photos of Joe, their parents, and his girlfriend, Callie Shaw, who was attending college out of state in New Jersey to Kevin's somewhat rumpled posters of ripped WWE wrestlers.

In fact, Joe seemed to look everywhere except at his brother. The truth was, he needed Frank more than ever now, needed his logic to refute every terror that had been present in his dream and was threatening to return full force this very moment. He needed Frank's comforting gaze, but he was afraid…afraid that instead of seeing compassion and a spark of enlightenment about the situation, he would see doubt…and laughter…in his brother's eyes.

He knew that Frank wasn't one to laugh at Joe (unless, of course, it was in the nature of good-ole fashioned "sibling war" teasing), but even Joe admitted that what he was telling his brother was ludicrously crazy. Morbid, even. Maybe he shouldn't have told Frank. Maybe…

He felt someone's finger under his chin, gently lifting his head up. Frank's warm brown eyes stared into Joe's haunted blue ones and there was not one trace of anger, laughter, or pity in those chocolate-colored depths. Joe felt himself melt into his brother's warm embrace…and knew that somehow, everything was going to be okay.

* * *

A few minutes later, Joe looked at his brother worriedly. "What's wrong with me, Frank? Why've I been having these awful dreams? And if they're just dreams, then why are they affecting me so badly?"

Frank sat still for a moment, pondering his brother's difficult questions. When he didn't answer right away, Joe pressed on in a rush, "I've woken Matt up every night for the past three weeks screaming because of them. He seems to think that I'm starting to go crazy…and maybe he's right…"

Frank instantly shook his head. "You are not crazy, Joe," he said adamantly.

"How can you know for sure?" Joe asked stubbornly.

Frank opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, his roommate, music major Kevin Torez, burst into the room singing Dust in the Wind. He stopped abruptly when he saw the brothers apparently in the middle of something serious and looked a bit uncomfortable. "Hey, guys," he said awkwardly, feeling even more nervous at Frank's raised eyebrows. Little did he know, they were raised in amusement.

Frank loved having Kevin for a roommate; the guy was twenty-one years old, wacky, fun to be around, and always had a song in his head—a song that he seemed determined to get stuck in everyone else's head as well! Kevin never ceased to amuse Frank, and although Joe seemed to think he was a bit too feminine in nature, Frank periodically reminded Joe that he was engaged to the beautiful and talented Tanya Whiteheart—the most gorgeous girl at BU. Joe would usually scoff and mutter something about "weirdoes" getting the hot girls, but Frank knew it was all an act. In Joe's eyes, there was no girl more beautiful than his own steady girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, who was currently a Freshman at Florida State University.

Kevin squirmed under his younger roommate's gaze for a few more long seconds—not long enough in Frank's humorous point of view—then finally said quickly, "I…um…gotta go call Tanya. Tootles!" He disappeared into the bathroom.

Joe gave Frank a look. "He said 'tootles'."

Frank rolled his eyes. "He was giving us privacy, brat, and you know it." He turned serious once more. "Listen Joe, I may not know why you're having these messed up dreams or what's going on, but I do know one thing—you are most definitely not crazy! You've proved that time and time again, with each case that we solve!" Frank and Joe were detectives, and when they both graduated with their Criminal Justice degrees, he and Frank intended to start their own investigation service and actually get paid for their detective work. Joe couldn't think of a better career than to spend every day with his brother, solving mysteries and facing danger…and knowing Frank would be there for him every step of the way.

But what if he was crazy? There was no way that dream would ever become a reality!

Frank's next words made Joe feel a little bit better. "Trust me, bro, it's probably the stress of college life that's getting to you. It's a big transition. When I first started, I had dreams for months about my calculus equations coming alive and eating my soul and Spanish conjugation grids slicing me up into tiny pieces that we'd dissect in Biology instead of those frogs."

He grinned at seeing a bit of relief on his brother's face. "For some reason, your brain has taken your stress and personified it as a beautiful woman, which makes sense, because that's what ninety percent of your thought process revolves around." This wasn't necessarily true, but at least it managed to coax a small smile out of Joe. Frank continued to joke, "But don't worry, I won't tell Vanessa! You'll have to square with that on your own!"

Finally, Joe grinned widely, determined not to let the previous events bring him down today. Frank was right. He was just stressed out, and what better way to de-stress than to get through his classes of the day and then go to the big Halloween party in the student activity center later on to hang out with his friends? He was determined not to let any dream, no matter how morbid, ruin Halloween for him.

Still, as he and Frank hustled out of Frank's room to go to World Literature, their first class of the day and their only class together, Joe felt eerie…almost as if someone—or something was watching him.

* * *

She watched him leave with his brother, beaming behind the mask that covered her face. He was more beautiful than ever, with his strong jaw, muscular, finely chiseled body, golden-blonde locks of hair, and those stunning, intoxicating blue eyes…she had known…known without a doubt that he would return to her someday.

It had taken over two hundred years, but her love was finally within touching distance once again. She would have him…she would show him the truth, no matter what it took…

_You are mine…no one else's…my precious love…_


	2. Chapter 2

Professor Thomas Martin had been teaching World Literature at Bayport University for over twenty years. He was a tall, distinguished man in his early fifties, with salt-and pepper hair (although salt was winning the ever-raging battle; the "pepper" seemed to become more and more scarce every class), crinkling black eyes, and a small nose set over thin lips.

He was an extremely intelligent individual and successful teacher. All of the students loved his classes and he was well-aware that there was a waiting list a mile high for his various English-related classes.

Frank and Joe Hardy had been ecstatic to find out that they would be taking Professor Martin's class, although Joe was a bit surprised. Being a freshman, he did not have top priority, and usually freshmen didn't get a spot in one of Martin's classes as the upperclassmen had seniority. Joe had wound up being the only freshman in the class; the rest were a few sophomores, a handful of juniors, and a barrage of seniors. He enjoyed the class greatly, but sometimes he felt uncomfortable in the classroom with the professor. He figured, however, that this had more to do with being a "newbie" in a room full of upperclassmen. Today, that feeling was back stronger than ever, but Joe skillfully ignored it and focused on Professor Martin, who had just strode purposefully into the large classroom.

"Alright, everyone, we've got a lot of ground to cover today, so let's take roll so we can get started," Professor Martin announced, flipping open his roll and scanning the names, calling each one out as he passed it and waiting a brief moment for the responsive "here!".

When he got to the "H's", Professor Martin slowed down and glanced up over the top of his roll. "Frank Hardy," he said, smiling at his star pupil.

Frank returned the gesture and announced, "Present."

"And your counterpart…Mr. Joseph Hardy." There were a few titters from the class, most of whom knew that Frank and Joe were practically inseparable. Ignoring the spurts of giggles and the level of voices gradually raising as the class began to discuss the party and their plans for the weekend with each other, Professor Martin stared long and hard at Joe, who was beginning to squirm under the scrutiny. Thankfully, he eventually got bored with staring down Joe and went on down the roll.

Joe glanced over at his brother to see if Frank had noticed anything. He obviously hadn't. He was scribbling something in his notebook. Joe peeked a glance and saw that he was feverishly working on a term paper—a paper that wasn't due until late December. He decided not to interrupt with what was probably just his imagination running away with him again, and instead looked back up at their professor as he cleared his throat, signaling the beginning of his lecture.

Instantly, Frank's notebook was put back in his bag and his brown eyes were focused on the teacher. Professor Martin smiled at his students. "It is Halloween," he stated the obvious. A loud cheer arose from the class. "A time of tricks and treats, if you will. So in celebration of this, ghoul-orious holiday—" a few groans and some chortles, "—there will be no class today!"

No one moved, unsure of whether or not their teacher was telling the truth. Eventually, the teacher smiled and stated, "That was your trick. I apologize for being cruel, but that's what Halloween is all about, right?" He grinned. "But now for your treat—even though class is still in session, we're not going to discuss Aristotle, Marie de France, or Lucian today. Instead, we're going to focus on an entirely different type of literature—ghost stories." The class grew quiet as their teacher took a seat on a stool in front of the class. "One particular ghost story, to be exact…one that is very true and the events surrounding it…completely verifiable." With a tight grin, Thomas Martin began weaving a tale that would entrance an entire classroom of students.

"Before Bayport University was a college, the entire campus was a large plantation owned by a wealthy man by the name of Edmund Smithers, and the student activities center was an elaborate ballroom. During the Civil War, he would periodically host parties for anyone who could attend—soldiers, if they weren't fighting, neighbors, friends, families, and sometimes complete strangers would sometimes show up and be admitted into the festivities. He was extremely famous for his amazing parties, even in some of the southern states.

"He had an ulterior motive for the parties that not many people knew about, however—Edmund Smithers was looking for a wife. He courted many of the single women that attended his parties for short periods of time, but he never met anyone he truly felt for until Emilia Reynard came along.

"Beautiful, irresistible, and witty, Emilia and Edmund fell deeply in love. In 1864, on Halloween night, in celebration of the war coming to a close, Edmund threw the largest party he had ever had. During the party, he had planned to propose to Emilia." Martin paused, his voice becoming low, dark, and hushed. "But right after he did so, Emilia Reynard drew a butcher's knife from somewhere within the folds of her gown and stabbed and gutted Edmund right there in the middle of the ballroom with hundreds of people watching.

"She escaped, but soon she was hunted down and hung for murder. Legend has it, her ghost still roams the campus, looking for yet another innocent victim."

There was silence. Joe had slowly felt the blood drain out of his face as his teacher had told a story that perfectly followed the sequence of his dreams.

* * *

Frank Hardy couldn't believe his ears. The story Professor Martin was telling perfectly matched up with the dreams his brother had been experiencing. At first, he wondered if Joe could have heard the story before, and  _that_ was what had triggered the nightmares, but one look at his brother's petrified face and he knew otherwise. Somehow, Joe had dreamed about something that had happened over two hundred years ago in perfect accuracy.

Impossible. Yet, that was exactly what had happened.

Glancing at Joe's pale, drawn face, Frank knew his brother was about to seriously freak out. His eyes were wild and frantic, and Frank knew that he was in his nightmare at this very moment. Lightly, Frank touched his brother's arm.

Joe's head snapped around to face Frank, and he looked relieved at the physical contact. Determined not to make a scene, Joe mentally calmed himself as best he could, then relied on Frank's comforting touch to do the rest.

* * *

She stood in the doorway of the classroom, her beautiful face twisted in a sneer. Lies, all lies!

She saw him sitting next to his brother, his face pale and frightened and she hoped that he remembered. He  _had_ to know the truth!

For if he didn't know, how could they possibly be together for all eternity?

* * *

After Professor Martin had finished relaying the tale, there was silence for a long moment. If one looked closely at the Hardy brothers, they might have been able to tell that there was something going on between them. They would have seen that Joe's brilliant blue eyes were haunted and terrified, and that Frank was doing everything possible to soothe his frightened brother.

No one, however, was paying attention to the brothers. Instead, their eyes were still on the teacher, the tale they had just heard echoing in their minds. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, a clear, confident female voice rang from a seat in the middle of the room.

"I don't think that Emilia killed Edmund," Tanya Whiteheart, Kevin's fiancé, stated bluntly.

The professor's eyes bulged in disbelief, and for a moment, anger was dominant on his normally pleasant face. Frank and Joe exchanged glances, startled at his sudden change of behavior.  _"Lies, all lies!"_ he spat bitterly at the girl, who looked back at him with a cool, collected confidence. She raised her eyebrows cockily and flipped a strand of her black hair over her shoulder, her green eyes narrowing.

Almost as if startled by his own behavior, Thomas Martin shook his head and smiled at his students. "I am sorry," he apologized smoothly, still staring at Tanya as if seeing her for the first time. "I am just—surprised. I have been telling this story to my students every year since I started teaching here, and I have yet to have a student contradict me." He forced his smile to widen. "What you are suggesting, Ms. Whiteheart, is absolutely impossible. Emilia killed him in front of over one hundred witnesses."

To Frank's surprise, Joe seemed to have recovered himself enough to speak up. "Yeah, and that's the one thing that makes me wonder if Tanya's right…it's just too obvious."

Glaring at Joe, Professor Martin snapped, "Emilia Reynard was a disturbed woman. Who knows what was wrong with her mental condition? I'm sure disguising her actions was the last thing on her list."

Joe shrugged. "You may be right. I just don't think it's right to get so defensive about it. I mean, it's just a story, right?" It sounded to Frank as if Joe was trying to convince himself, but was failing bitterly.

Professor Martin glared at the youngest Hardy. "No, Mr. Hardy. The story of the bloodthirsty Emilia Reynard is  _not_ just a story, and you—as well as Ms. Whiteheart—would do well to remember that." He paused, plastered on a smile, and said, "I think that's it for today. Have a great Halloween!" He strode out of the classroom and down the hall before any of his students could approach him, almost as if he was trying to avoid it.

Frank Hardy would have followed him and demanded some answers to his irrational behavior, but Joe had just rushed out of the other door and was running down the hall toward the exit of the building. Frank hurried to catch up.

* * *

"Joe!" Frank grabbed his brother's arm and held it tight, pulling the younger boy to a stop. They were in the stairwell in the English building, where Frank had finally caught up with his brother.

"Frank, I don't understand!" Joe moaned, wrenching his arm out of his brother's grasp but staying put all the same. "How is it possible that I've been dreaming—in vivid detail—about an atrocious murder that happened here over two hundred years ago,  _especially_ when I'd never heard the story in my entire life!"

Frank honestly didn't have an answer for his brother. "I don't know, Joe. Maybe it's just coincidence—"

"It is  _not_  a coincidence," Joe said forcefully, glaring at Frank. "Emilia killed Edmund on Halloween…my dreams have been getting more detailed each day, leading up to what happened last night—on the eve of Halloween! I think they may be a warning. Something's going to happen." He shuddered as a cold feeling descended upon him.

"You okay?" Frank asked softly, seeing his brother pale.

Joe shook his head. "Let's get out of here, Frank. I feel really creepy."

Together, the two baffled brothers exited the English building and headed for the Cunningham-Bryer dormitory, musing the strange phenomena in silence, both afraid of what they could mean for the school—and Joe.

* * *

She listened to their conversation. Poor thing. He seemed  _so_ confused. Obviously, he was having trouble remembering. When he whispered, "Something's going to happen", she strove to comfort him. She always hated it when her love was sad.

She reached out and stroked his face, touched his lips, and embraced him. He shivered, and she was satisfied, assuming only that it was a shiver of pleasure at her long-awaited touch.

Then he said, "Let's get out of here, Frank. I feel really creepy."

As he departed, she stared at him, hurt, wondering…how could he  _not_ remember her touch? Tonight, she would make sure he remembered, one way or another.

* * *

Joe sat on his bed, staring morosely at the ceiling. The more he thought about what had been going on over the past few weeks, the more he realized how dense he must have been not to recognize the dreams for what they were: warnings. But warnings about what?

He was dreaming about the past, for goodness' sake! There's no sense in warning someone about something that has already happened…unless that ancient Greek philosopher was right…and history  _does_ repeat itself…

The thing that disturbed Joe the most about his dreams were the fact that for some reason, instead of Edmund Smithers in his dream being murdered, it was Joe. It just didn't make sense.  _None_ of this made sense.

Growing up with a father for a detective, and then taking up the torch with his brother later on, Joe had always been a firm believer that there was a logical explanation for just about everything. But try as might, Joe just couldn't see anything logical about what he had been experiencing. He had that feeling again, in the pit of his stomach, the feeling he had had many times before, usually before he was kidnapped, shot, or beaten…the feeling that something was  _very_ wrong…that gut feeling that had proved right so many times in the past.

He sighed. He really needed to talk to Frank but his brother was in his last class of the day. After walking Joe back to his dorm room, and offering over and over to skip class and stay with Joe, Frank had finally given in and headed reluctantly off to class, not wanting to leave his younger brother with his fears and worries. Joe, however, had insisted that he just needed some time to think, sort out his emotions. Surely he would be able to think of something,  _anything_ logical that could have triggered these dreams. But try as he might, he just couldn't.

He had never heard the story before, and the dreams were just so… _real_. And, even though he knew he was dreaming about the past, he knew that it had something to do with the future…the very near future. Again, this was mainly just his gut feeling, but that had been wrong very rarely, if ever.

What connection did he have with Emilia and Edmund? Come to think of it, he didn't seem to be the only person that was emotionally connected with the story. Professor Martin and Tanya Whiteheart had been extremely touchy about the whole subject earlier in class…and, man, Professor Martin may have given Joe the creeps occasionally, but even Joe had to admit to himself that his teacher's behavior today was totally uncharacteristic and seriously strange.

Joe sighed, exhausted from his lack of sleep. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was 1:45. Frank wouldn't be back from physics until 2:30 so Joe figured that he could try and get a few minutes of sleep and go see Frank after he was back from class. Smiling to himself, he realized that he might not even have to go and see Frank—Frank would probably be rushing over to Joe's room in order to check on his brother the second that class was over.

Joe had a very good brother.


	3. Chapter 3

Joe dreamed that he was in the ballroom again, dancing with Emilia Reynard. He now knew her name, thanks to his enlightening Literature class. They were the center of attention again. The only difference between this scene and the scene he had seen every night for the past three weeks was that for the first time, Emilia wasn't wearing her mask.

Joe had to admit, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Joe found he could say what he wanted to say in this dream, not what the man in the dream normally said. So he stared at Emilia as she said, "I love you."

He shook his head. "No, you don't. You're going to kill me."

Emilia looked shocked. "I would never kill you, my love. I would die for you." She said this so sincerely that Joe felt he had no choice but to believe her.

"You are Emilia Reynard," he stated the simple truth.

"Of course," the beautiful woman confirmed, staring at Joe as if she were seeing him for the first time. "I have been since I was born, and I do not believe this is going to change any time soon."

Despite himself, Joe laughed at her charming wit and found that he could almost see himself falling for her. She sort of reminded her of Iola, his first true love who had been brutally murdered…just like Edmund Smithers had been.

"You may not be trying to kill me, but you still do not love me," Joe said, keeping his mind on his objective. Somehow, he knew that he had to convince Emilia that they couldn't be together. But that was silly; of course they couldn't, she was dead. Then again, Joe reminded himself, this was a dream, and in dreams, all things are possible.

Emilia looked at him, a spark of anger overtaking her expression. "I do love you."

"No," Joe said firmly. "You love Edmund Smithers."

Emilia laughed, and then said some words that shocked Joe to the core. "Silly, silly man. You really had me going for a moment. Silly goose, you know that you are Edmund Smithers and that we are going to be together forever."

Joe stared at her, but suddenly the scene changed, and he was dancing in the modern-day student activities center with a masked Emilia. He smiled at her, but without a word, the masked beauty took out a knife and began stabbing Joe relentlessly… "You may not be Edmund Smithers, Hardy, but you WILL pay for his mistakes, just because she loves you." And Joe could really feel the pain, as she stabbed him…again and again…

He screamed…but the pain wouldn't stop.

* * *

The pain was real. Joe knew this with every fiber of his being. He heard worried, frantic voices as he continued to scream…and white-hot pain knifed through every inch of his body…

He heard someone, maybe more than one someone, calling out his name, but he couldn't answer. He had to wake up. But even if he did, it wouldn't help.

The pain was real.

* * *

Frank Hardy was beginning to seriously doubt the wisdom of going to class while Joe was clearly so terrified. He knew it wasn't like his brother, the fearless (and impetuous) detective that we was. Joe just didn't scare easily. He had faced guns, bombs, knifes…and all of these in real life, not in dreams. He had been shot, nearly blown up…he had even been stabbed a few times. Some of the "perks" that come with being a detective.

He had been kidnapped by angry killers bent on getting revenge on their investigator father, threatened with death, nearly killed…and even though he certainly was scared—he would have to be Superman  _not_ to be—he had never,  _ever_ reacted like this before.

Joe just didn't get scared like this. Why would a mere dream frighten him so much? Sure, it was extremely weird that he dreamed about something that happened in history like he was watching it happen, save for the fact that  _he_ was being the one killed, not Edmund. But still…

Frank remembered a few Halloweens ago, the one after Iola had died, to be exact. This was the only time that Frank could remember Joe being more terrified than this, other than when Iola had died, and that wasn't so much  _fear_ as total, consuming rage. But that Halloween, Joe thought that everything had been taken from him. He had walked in on his mother's murdered corpse in their attic. He had watched his girlfriend, Vanessa, get blown up in another explosion. And he had seen the ghost of Iola Morton, who had goaded, taunted, and toyed with his emotions.

As it all turned out, there was a logical explanation for everything—all dealing with the Lazarus Clinic, who had made doubles of Vanessa, Callie, their mother…Iola…

But Joe hadn't known this. And when Frank had gotten back from following a lead in Maine—gosh, he never should have left Joe alone—he had found Joe in a graveyard, fighting madly with "ghosts" only he could see…he had been positively terrified. Wailing, crying, screaming in anguish…terrified…

Sure, it had been hallucinations he had been seeing in the graveyard, due to the tiny dart that Frank had found sticking out of his neck, but Joe hadn't known that. He had been terrified. *

Frank didn't know if there was a logical explanation for what Joe had been seeing in his dreams or not, but right now, that didn't matter. Right now, despite his arguments and protests, his brother needed him, and he had just left him alone…

Feeling a ferocious wave of guilt washing over him, Frank stood up and strode to the door, stopping only to inform his physics professor that he had a "family emergency" to deal with.

He knew that Joe had been upset and scared, but he was in no way prepared for what would face him when he reached his brother's room…

* * *

Matt Parson was in an excellent mood. He had gotten his Economics test grade back with an A-, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his girlfriend, dancing the night away. Life was good.

He was headed back up to his room for a few minutes before meeting Clarissa at the cafeteria for a late lunch/early dinner. His upbeat gait faltered for a moment as he thought of his roommate. It disturbed him that Joe was getting so seriously freaked out about these dreams he'd been having. Matt didn't know what they were about, but they couldn't be good at all…but still…Joe was acting _way_ out of character.

When Matt had first met Joe, his first impression had been that of a dumb-jock, macho, football player. Boy, had he been wrong! Imagine his surprise when he found out that not only was Joe had graduated high school with a 3.87 GPA along with being a stellar football player, but he also solved mysteries and took on terrorists with his older brother.

Joe hadn't bragged about any of his accomplishments at all. In fact, a lot of times, he seemed to go red in the face and try to change the subject when people started to praise him. Sure, Joe liked to be the center of attention, but not in a prideful, boastful way. He preferred acting goofy and funny and entertaining people rather than driveling on about his accomplishments.

Matt had to admit that if  _he_ had done even half the things Joe and Frank had done, he probably wouldn't have been able to keep it to himself.

Regardless of how much Joe had let everyone know that he didn't want to brag or be "oohed" and "ahhed" over, Matt had still found out about some of his more daring and terrifying adventures. According to Joe, who had been assigned a paper about the most dangerous situation he'd ever been in, he had been kidnapped numerous times, shot at, stabbed, attacked…and he'd even watched his first true love die before his very eyes…Matt couldn't imagine having to watch Clarissa dying and not being able to a thing about it…he shuddered.

But Joe had recovered relatively well it seemed, and he had taken the opportunity to do more work against terrorists than he ever would have before. Matt hadn't known Joe for very long, but they  _had_ been sharing a room for two months, and one thing that Matt had noticed: Joe, while not fearless, was extremely brave. Even if he was scared, he didn't show it.

Matt hadn't meant to offend Joe when he had suggested that maybe Joe was having psychological issues, but seeing someone who had faced more danger in the first eighteen years of their lives than most people face in two lifetimes get so terrified and reduced to tears over a dream didn't make sense to Matt.

Matt was about to unlock the door to his and Joe's room when he heard a peculiar sound emanating from inside. It sounded like someone whimpering…like someone in pain. Then a pain-filled scream resounded from behind the door, someone begging, "Please, no, please…"

Without a second thought, Matt unlocked the door and barreled into the room, expecting Joe to be fighting with someone, on the floor, bleeding.

What he saw was not what he expected, but even so, it was more disturbing. Joe was writhing in agony on his bed, sweat pouring from his forehead, strangled moans and screams escaping from his lips. "Nooooo!"

"Joe?" Matt said loudly, not sure at all what he should do. Although Joe had been experiencing nightmares for a while now, somehow Matt knew that this one was different. He was in pain, really hurting, no doubt about it.

"Joe?"

"No, stop it!" Joe wailed and Matt backed away, knowing that he needed to get Frank right away. Racking his brain, he tried to remember what class the eldest Hardy brother had at the moment. He couldn't remember, but he would find out. As he was hurrying from the room, he ran headlong into Frank. Joe chose that moment to let out another pain-filled scream.

"JOE!" Frank yelled, shoving Matt out of the way and crouching down at his brother's side. Matt watched in amazement, still shocked at the brothers' amazingly close relationsip and Frank's ability to take care of his baby brother.

* * *

As soon as Frank heard Joe's scream, he knew his feelings had been accurate. He shoved past Matt, dropping to his knees beside his brother's bed. "Joe, come on, baby brother, open your eyes. It's only a dream," he said, shocked at the ferocity of the nightmare. He had yet to see a nightmare in action, and he was astounded by how bad it was. He glanced back at Matt to see that Joe's roommate looked staggered as well. Oh, then perhaps this was the first time a nightmare had attacked with such vengeance.

Joe slowly opened his eyes, and Frank was terrified at the pain they held. "Joe, what's wrong?"

Joe managed to choke out, "It hurts, everything hurts…" then he passed out.

* * *

The nurse looked at the boy lying unconscious on his bed. She had been called by a frantic Frank Hardy, who had contacted her about his brother two times already in the past two months he had been at BU. The first time, the blonde boy had hit his head extremely hard on something, resulting in momentary unconsciousness. The second time, she had been shocked to see that he had been beaten and had rope burns on his wrists and ankles. She had demanded what had happened and Frank had given her a quick account: the brothers had been following up on a lead and Joe had gotten taken as a hostage/revenge token… _again._

The nurse still couldn't believe that an eighteen-year-old boy and his nineteen-year-old brother would be out chasing leads, confronting criminals and terrorists, and solving mysteries…while still managing to keep their grades relatively high. After treating the younger Hardy, she had spoken to the dean of student affairs about the incident. The dean, who happened to be a good friend of Fenton Hardy's, had admitted that the boys had missed two days of classes earlier in the week—Joe, because he had been kidnapped, and Frank, because he had been assisting his father and the police in tracking him down.

Needless to say, the BU nurse was beginning to feel that it had been much too long since she had seen young Mr. Joe Hardy and had been wondering when she would get another call from his brother when Frank had called, sounding more frazzled and terrified than she had ever heard him before.

Frank had given her what he knew about what had happened with his brother, with helpful tidbits from Matt every so often. Frank had hesitated in telling her about the dreams, concerned that if she heard about them, she might decide that the younger boy was having either psychic visions (which would result, Frank knew, in a barrage of useless tests) or crazy (once again, afraid she would make him undergo tests). In the end, Frank just mentioned that Joe had been experiencing nightmares, but didn't elaborate on what they were about.

The nurse had listened intently to what had transpired, eyes widening slightly as she heard about the pain he had been feeling, and his absolute terror, even after he had woken up. She stared long and hard at Frank for a moment, and said, "Does your brother have any history of drug use?"

Frank glared at her, open-mouthed for a moment. When he found his voice, she could hear his barely-restrained anger in every syllable "Are you suggesting that Joe's experience was some sort of drug-induced trip? That he willingly shot LSD or something into his body? My. Brother. Does. Not. Do. Drugs."

The nurse was quite shocked at the fierceness at which Frank insisted on his brother's behalf. She blinked, then said, "Mr. Hardy, I'm not necessarily suggesting that your brother took drugs voluntarily. I suggest that you get him checked out by the local hospital and get tests run for traces of  
drugs—"

"No, no hospital. No drugs." Joe had woken up and was struggling to sit up. "I'm okay. It was just a nightmare."

"Joe, that was  _not_ just a nightmare," Frank and Matt said at the exact same time. Joe glared at them.

"It  _was_ ," Joe stressed in frustration. "I think I just passed out from exhaustion. Trust me,  _no one_ snuck in here and shot me up with any kind of drugs. If there were drugs involved, there would be side-effects. I feel perfectly fine." This was true, at least physically. His mind was still panicking at the realistic experience…he could have  _sworn_ that he had felt the pain.

Either way, the dream was over now, and he had to put it behind him. He had to talk to Frank about all of this. Now he was even more certain than ever that something big was going down—soon. Tonight, even.

It took a while, but he finally convinced Matt and the nurse that it was just exhaustion and promised to take it easy and rest like a good little boy, but he knew that he hadn't fooled Frank one bit. Honestly, that made him feel a lot better. After the nurse had left and Matt had departed to meet Clarissa for the party, Joe turned to Frank.

"Something very weird is going on here, brother."

Frank grimaced. "I thought we established that a few hours ago, Joe. Now tell me exactly what happened, and then I'll decide if you really need to go to the hospital to get checked out or not.

Joe rolled his eyes but recounted everything that had happened since Frank had left for physics. "I never should have left you alone," Frank groaned, his head in his hands, after Joe had finished.

Joe shook his head in bewilderment. "Not your fault at all, Frank. It would have happened anyway. Look, Frank, I'm not one to jump to crazy conclusions…" Frank raised his eyebrows. Joe smiled self-consciously. "Well, at least not crazy conclusions like this…but I think I'm getting a message or something…like…I dunno…"

"The ghost of Emilia Reynard is trying to tell you something?" Frank finished with a half-grin.

Joe blushed crimson. "It's stupid, I know. But there is no other possible explanation…at least none that I can think of…and my gut's telling me that  _Emilia's_ trying to tell me something. You know I don't believe in ghosts, Frank, but this is just too weird and…" He had been so busy trying to convince his brother that he wasn't psycho that he hadn't noticed that Frank was trying to talk as well.

Finally, after Joe's babbling drifted off into a slightly uncomfortable silence, Frank picked up what he had been trying to say. "Joe, I agree. Something supernatural is going on here."

Joe blinked, amazed. His brother, the cool, calm, and collected, rational and logic guy that he was, believed that there where ghosties and ghoulies out and about this Halloween? Wow…that was something!

Frank continued, "I did some research in the down time before class started today. I read some pretty detailed and scientifically-based reports on spirits or ghosts. Although I have never been one to believe in the paranormal, you could be getting psychic vibes from the electromagnetic energy left from the person or persons that previously vacated this spot. At least, according to the scientist I was reading, that is."

"That makes no sense," Joe sighed. "But," he continued, "it makes more since than anything else I could come up with!" He groaned. "But even if what you're saying is true,  _why_ am I seeing myself instead of Edmund Smithers? And why me? Matt sleeps twenty feet away. If  _I'm_ having these dreams, then why isn't he?" He paused, his face turning white. "I'm seeing myself because something—bad—is going to happen tonight. To me." He shuddered. "I don't think Emilia killed Edmund, Frank. I can feel it. That's what she was trying to tell me in this last dream."

Frank looked a little surprised at this sudden change of topic. He would rather be focusing on finding a way to keep his little brother safe than speculating on who had committed a two-century-old murder. Then again, maybe the only way to keep Joe safe was to discover what Emilia—or whatever it was that had been plaguing his brother—was trying to tell him. This was all very new to Frank, and to Joe as well, as the brothers had always grown up with the philosophy that there was a logical explanation to pretty much everything.

Joe went on. "We've got to find a way to prove her innocence." His blue eyes were soulful, begging his older brother to believe him. "I know this is all crazy, Frank, but my gut is telling me that the only way we're going to avoid a major catastrophe tonight is if we reveal the truth about Edmund's murder.

Frank nodded, knowing how often Joe's 'gut' had been dead-on in the past—so often it was scary. "I agree. And the only way we're going to be able to prove Emilia's innocence is to find out who _really_ killed Edmund."

"Right," Joe said, looking much more excited and awake than he had just seconds before. Knowing that he was going to be doing something to help his predicament had lifted his spirits considerably. He just hoped that they would be able to solve the mystery in time…before history repeated itself, perhaps…

* * *

She was ecstatic beyond all measure. He believed her, her love truly believed her! He was going to unravel the mystery of their past and once he had revealed the truth once and for all, he was going to join her again and they would drift into eternity together, side by side…


	4. Chapter 4

"Kevin! You in here?" Frank Hardy yelled as he and Joe entered Frank and Kevin's dorm. They had decided that their first course of action should be talking with Tanya and Professor Martin about the exchange in World Literature this morning. Both had seemed extremely touchy and personally involved with the story of Edmund and Emilia, so maybe they knew something that could prove to be crucial to solving the mystery. The only problem was that Tanya was at volleyball practice and wouldn't be out until six-thirty—that's when the Halloween ball started tonight, and the boys were desperately hoping that they would have covered a lot of ground by then. Considering the fact that all of Joe's dreams had taken place in a ballroom, and the party was going to be in the student activities center, the old ballroom, the boys had deduced that whatever was going to happen tonight would most likely occur at or during the time of the party. So instead of tracking down Tanya or waiting for practice to be over, the brothers had decided to talk to the next best thing: her fiancé, and Frank's roommate, Kevin.

Kevin bounded out of the bathroom looking like something from a very cheesy horror movie. His face was deathly white, with dark black circles around them. Fake blood seeped from his eyelids and his eyeballs were a grotesque shade of yellow. He wore a long, black cloak and wielded a hook on one arm instead of a sleeve. His lips were painted bright red and fake blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and from his fanged teeth.

He might have actually looked scary, but his stupid grin completely ruined any frightening effect he may have had otherwise.

Frank stopped short, causing Joe to bump into him. "Uh…Kevin, what the heck are you wearing?" he wondered, not even sure he wanted to know the answer himself.

Kevin grinned even more stupidly and Joe, freaked out as he was about everything else, couldn't even contain a snort, which he cleverly disguised as a cough at the last minute. "Dudes—I put it together myself! It's a combination of all my favorite scary villains. I've even got Dracula, Voldemort, and Captain Hook!" he boasted as the boys looked on in amusement.

"What, no werewolf mask?" Joe asked, barely containing his smirk.

"No," Kevin said glumly, but then brightened. "But check this out!" He turned, revealing a long, furry tail emerging from a small hole in the back of his cloak. This time Joe couldn't stop his snort of laughter and Kevin glared, offended. "Hey, man, I worked all night on this sucker."

"We can see that," Frank stepped in before Joe could further anger Kevin.

He smiled. "It's a pretty cool costume, dude."

"What are you guys dressing up as?"

"Actually, we're not sure if we're even going to—" Joe began, but Frank abruptly cut him off.

"We're going as a vampire and a zombie," Frank quickly improvised, knowing that if Kevin found out that they probably weren't going to attend the party, they wouldn't get a word in edgewise because of Kevin's attempts to get them to come.

"Sweet!" Kevin hooted. "Anyway, why'd you guys come in here all, 'Kevin!' like? You need me for something?"

"Actually, yes," Frank admitted. "Think you could take a second and talk to us?"

Kevin nodded enthusiastically and plopped down on his bed, effectively crumpling his 'tail' beneath him. Frank and Joe proceeded to sit side-by-side on Frank's neatly-made bed. "Shoot," Kevin ordered.

"We were wondering," Joe said, "about Tanya."

Instantly Kevin was alert. "Yeah? What's going on? Is she okay?"

He looked so panicked that Frank would have laughed if he hadn't been so focused on reassuring his roommate that his fiancé was perfectly fine. "No, Kevin, nothing's wrong…it's just, we've got World Lit with Tanya, and today we were discussing the school ghost story about Emilia and Edmund."

"Ah." Instantly, Kevin looked very knowledgeable.

"Tanya sort of got into a row with Professor Martin about it," Joe picked up the story. "They were both really touchy about the story and Tanya was extremely adamant that Emilia  _did not_ kill Edmund." He paused. "I'm inclined to believe her…but, I mean, it's just a story, right? Why would Tanya be so uptight about a ghost story that happened two hundred years ago?"

"Yeah, Tanya's touchy about it, alright," Kevin nodded. The brothers tried to focus on what the music major was saying, because they found it quite difficult to take someone in a werewolf/pirate/wizard/monster/vampire costume seriously. Once he began to elaborate, however, they forgot about his strange Halloween costume as their minds began whirling hundreds of miles an hour.

"But why shouldn't she be?" Kevin continued. "It's  _her_ family name that's smeared!"

"What?" Frank gasped.

"Yeah, you heard me…she's a direct descendent of Emilia Reynard. She may not have proof, but she knows without a doubt that her great-great-great grandmother never murdered her lover. She's determined to find out who really  _did_ kill him and why someday."

"But how is that possible?" Joe mused. "She couldn't be a  _direct_ descendent of Emilia. Emilia and Edmund never married, and even if she  _was_ pregnant when she killed him, she was hung for murder a few days later. The baby would have died along with her."

"No, she wasn't pregnant when she was hung, and she was never pregnant with a child of Edmund's," Kevin said evasively, obviously enjoying this conversation.

"Then how…?" Joe began.

"She must have had a child with another man  _before_ she met Edmund," Frank deduced.

"Either that, or she was running around on her husband," Joe added.

Kevin grinned, listening to their speculation. When he continued to be quiet, Joe snapped, "Do you know the next part of the story or are you just going to sit here all day? This is extremely important!"

"Dude, keep your underpants on," Kevin chuckled, amused with his own weird sense of humor. "Emilia was married to a General Arnold Montgomery, a highly respected military man. At least that's what's in those public records and old marriage license documents Tanya's always studying online and in the library. Anyway, she was having an affair with Edmund that Montgomery knew nothing about because he was off fighting in the war against the South. In 1863 he was killed in a particularly brutal battle, and Edmund could finally take her under his wing without being seen as a scandal or Emilia being condemned as an adulteress. Then, on Halloween night in 1864, Emilia supposedly killed her husband. You guys know the rest of the story."

Everything was quiet for a moment, then Frank said, "So Tanya's pretty obsessed with her heritage, huh?"

"Obsessed? Yeah, I guess you could say that," Kevin answered nonchalantly, shrugging. "I mean, I can't say that I really blame her because after Emilia was hung for treason…for murdering her own husband…her name and her family's name was smeared. Her father took in her two-year-old daughter, Camilla, who, when she was old enough, moved to France because of the constant badgering and scoffing at her heritage—her murderess of a mother. I suppose some people had also concluded that Emilia had had an affair on her husband and scorned her for that as well. Either way, Camilla felt that she would never be able to get on with her life unless she moved somewhere where no one knew her, and more importantly, no one knew her as the murderess's daughter.

"She was adamant, however, that her mother had  _not_ killed Edmund, even though she was only two years old when the murder was committed and she remembered nothing of her mother. I guess a lot of people would have been angry with their parents for making such a huge mistake such as murder and resented them for allowing their sin to corrupt their child's future. I probably would've." Frank and Joe nodded in agreement. "But not Camilla," Kevin continued. "She felt that her mother would never kill anyone, much less someone she cared so deeply about like Edmund. She was angry that her mother had been hanged without a fair trial, since there were so many 'witnesses' to Edmund's murder…she was angry that he mother had been sentenced to death for a crime that she whole-heartedly believed that Emilia hadn't committed.

"Anyway, when she moved to France, she eventually married a French dude with a crazy last name I could never pronounce, and they had a few kids. The oldest, Rachelle, moved to the U.S. when she was eighteen, and since two generations had passed since the Smithers Scandal, as it had began to be called, and because Rachelle had a French last name and couldn't be identified as the granddaughter of Emilia, the people gave her no grief. She was Tanya's great grandmother. She also harbored the belief that Emilia was innocent. She met and fell in love with a rich young man named Reggie Bayport, and they married.

"She convinced her husband to invest in the now-deserted land that had once been her grandmother's lover's plantation. Together, they founded Bayport University. This was in 1913."

"I knew that Reggie and Rachelle Bayport were the founders of BU," Frank thought out loud, "but I never realized that they were direct relatives of Emilia Reynard."

"So what does any of that have to do with Tanya and who really killed Edmund?" Joe snapped a little impatiently. They had been sitting here talking for almost forty-five minutes and time was not on their side. This was all good and interesting, but he wanted to be  _doing_ something.

"Okay, you need to seriously chill, Hardy," Kevin laughed, not understanding the gravity of the situation. "I'm getting there. Trust me, this is the condensed version. Tanya spent hours telling me just what I've told you so far." He paused to collect his thoughts, then went on, "Apparently, Rachelle had an ulterior motive for wanting to buy the Smithers' plantation besides the 'family sentiments' bull that she fed her husband. See, after Smithers was killed and Emilia hung, the plantation was deserted and no one wanted to buy it…eventually it grew over. Since she knew that the plantation had been sitting there undisturbed for almost fifty years, she wanted to return to try and find out who really killed Edmund and clear her grandmother's name.

"You see, rumor has it that Emilia Reynard kept a journal, and had it hidden away somewhere in Smithers' plantation so that if her husband returned to their house after the war—which he didn't, since he was killed, but still—so that if he returned, he wouldn't find the journal and learn about her affair."

"Rachelle must have assumed that Emilia's journal was still in the house somewhere and that it contained evidence of some sort that Emilia  _didn't_ kill Edmund," Joe deduced, his mind beginning to whir.

Frank nodded, his brain working on high-speed. "But even more importantly, some sort of indication of who actually committed the murder. But she never found the diary," he concluded.

Kevin nodded. "You're right, she didn't. She practically tore the place apart, nearly losing her sanity. That's when her husband decided that the best thing for Rachelle's health was removal from the campus itself.

Rachelle refused to leave unless the new dean of the college signed an irrevocable contract stating that the upper two floors of the main house were to remain untouched and off-limits to students not directly related to Emilia Reynard. No one could do construction work, any moving or rearranging, and certainly no getting into things. She did this to protect the journal and make sure that when her children went to college, that they would have full access of the floors in question.

"All three of her children went to BU, but none of them found any trace of the journal. When the dean of the school retired and another man took his place, the contract was not renewed—but no one—besides descendents of Emilia like Tanya, of course—go up there anyway. It's against the rules. Technically, Tanya's not supposed to go up there, either, but she's sneaky and determined. You'd better not tell or she could wind up in some serious trouble!" Kevin added on, almost as an afterthought.

"Don't worry, we won't," Frank assured his roommate. He took a moment to drink in what Kevin had told them thus far and then said, "I have a question—why were only the two upper floors of the main house—which I assume to be the student activities center—the only ones being searched for the journal? And if the contract is null and void today, why can no one go up there, or why hasn't it been remodeled or renovated or something?" Now that he thought about it, he realized that the stairs leading to the upper levels of the student center had been removed and no one was ever allowed to go up there. He had always wondered why, and now he had a feeling that he was going to find out. _Man, I should've asked Kevin ages ago,_ he mused.

"Mostly because Emilia's room was on the second floor, but she had full access to every room on the second and third floors. The first floor was the ballroom and that wouldn't have been the safest place to hide it. Also, from something that Emilia said to the crowd gathered to watch her be killed. According to several different sources, Emilia's last words were, 'The truth lies where my life was fully lived and where my heart shall remain until I see Edmund once again.' Kind of cryptic, I guess, and that's where a lot of the ghost stories come from about Emilia. I mean, the woman did basically say that her spirit was going to stay in the campus until Edmund returned for her…and as far as anyone knows, dude ain't come back for his lady yet!" Kevin took a break to chuckle at his odd humor.

Joe prodded him to go on, now deeply engrossed in the story. "Okay, so what about now? Why is the upstairs of the student activities center off limits?"

"Because it's too dangerous," Kevin said darkly. "Deadly, even."

"What do you mean?" Frank asked. "And if it's so dangerous, why do you let your fiancé go up there and search?"

"Nothing has ever happened to Tanya," Kevin said defensively. "And nothing ever will. She's a direct descendent of Emilia. I can't explain it, but that's just the way it is. Is Emilia's ghost really up in the student center, guarding against all who aren't related to her? I dunno. What I  _do_ know is that some kids decided to go up there a few years ago, despite express orders not to."

"What happened?" Joe asked, paling.

"One kid died. He fell from the third floor through a rotting board and landed on a jagged stake-like board on the second floor. Bled all over the place. Tanya says you can still see the blood stains on the second floor, just underneath the hole in the ceiling. He didn't die right away, but help didn't come soon enough, and he died on the way to the hospital." The brothers looked on, shocked.

"What happened to the others?" Joe asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"One of them disappeared for three days. When they found him, he was hanging from the rafters, dead. It was deemed suicide, but a lot of people think otherwise. And the other two, well, they survived to run and try to get help for the one boy who was lying there half-dead and the other one who had disappeared. But the next morning, one of the boys was found dead, from overdose. He had been a troubled kid, and a lot of people assumed that witnessing the death of a friend had driven him over the edge. His death was ruled suicide as well. The other guy lived for three weeks after that, and then was found back on the third story, dead from a spider bite. Apparently, he had snuck back up into the upper levels for some reason without letting anyone know where he was, got bitten by a brown recluse scuttling around, and died of the poison before anyone could get to him."

"All four kids who went up there died within a span of three weeks?" Frank said sharply. "Didn't the school see a pattern? Why didn't they look into it? And when exactly did this happen? Why wasn't it publicized?"

Kevin was grumbling, "I shoulda known better than to tell a story like this to a pair of detectives, but he was positively beaming from being the center of attention, so Frank and Joe didn't take it to heart. "Okay, here's the deal: the school saw a pattern but was able to justify it. The one kid fell and died. One of the guys was afraid that he'd get in trouble for murder if his friend died, so he ran off and split. Another one of the guys was so traumatized by witnessing the death of a buddy that he ODed that night. When the kid that had run off when the first dude died found out that not one but two of his friends were dead, he went back to the place where the first friend had died and hung himself. The last guy was probably returning to the scene of two of his friends' deaths as a memorial or out of respect or sadness and he got bitten by a spider and wasn't able to get to help in time and was too far gone when that professor found him."

Frank had to admit, it made a certain sort of sense. But he still couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. Glancing at Joe, Frank realized that his brother had come to the same conclusion. Those boys might have seen something up there, something they weren't supposed to see. That something was what cost them their lives. But if those kids were killed for being up there just as a prank, then why hadn't Tanya been harmed when she was so obviously looking for something? Either there really was a "curse" on the upstairs of the student center or…no, it couldn't be…but the only other thing that made sense to Frank was if  _Tanya_ had been involved with the kids' deaths. He decided not to share his theory with Kevin just yet and instead listened as his roommate continued to answer his questions.

"This happened about ten years ago, as far as I know. I don't know who the guys were, so don't ask. And as for the deaths, they weren't publicized. The families were notified and there was a very small segment on the late night news on them, but the dean wanted to keep the reputation of the school fairly clean, so not a lot of people know about it. I only know because of Tanya." He stood up. "Well, guys, I hate to run off on y'all, but I've got to be ready to pick Tanya up after practice and get to the party. Plus, I'm sure you've got some sort of lead to follow or suspect to question." He grinned and started to leave.

Before he could leave, however, Joe jumped up on impulse and asked, "Do you know why Professor Martin was so uptight about it?"

Kevin turned around and shrugged. "Well, according to Tanya, he was the one who found the boy's bodies, but I don't know how that would make him personally involved with the Smithers Scandal." He shrugged, clapped Joe on the back, and waved. "See ya at the party."

"Thanks!" Frank called as his mixed-up monster roomie sprinted across campus toward the volleyball courts. He turned to Joe. "Did you hear that?"

Joe nodded, his eyes gleaming. "Professor Martin was the guy that found that kid's body. I suddenly have a hunch that our teacher may be more deeply involved in this than we had previously anticipated…"

"Let's go give Professor Martin a visit, shall we?" Frank asked, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder and escorting him out the door.

"Let's," said Joe, his spirits raised considerably at all they had learned.


	5. Chapter 5

Professor Martin wasn't in his classroom, office, or the cafeteria. They had asked around and found out that he simply could not be found. None of the other professors that worked alongside him had seen him since his eleven o'clock class earlier that day when he had stormed out of the room in a huff. One teacher who knew of the boys' reputation in sleuthing, gave the brothers Martin's home address so they could try to track them down.

Frank and Joe now stood on his front porch, shoulder to shoulder. Frank's finger was hovering over the doorbell as he had just finished ringing it for the fourth time.

"I don't think he's home," Joe groaned.

"Maybe his doorbell isn't working or something," Frank mused. "We should knock."

Joe reached out and banged on the door, which swung open slightly at his touch. The brothers looked at each other with raised eyebrows. "Should we?" Joe asked.

Frank hesitated. "I don't know…"

But Joe was already opening the door, calling out, "Hello? Professor Martin? Are you here?" When he got inside, however, he froze. "Frank, get in here, now!" he hissed and Frank quickly fell in beside him.

"Whoa," the eldest Hardy brother stated simply. 'Whoa' was correct.

Every inch of Martin's living room had been ransacked and furniture overturned. "It looks like someone got into a fight and then sacked the place," Joe observed.

"Don't touch anything," Frank warned his brother even as he knew Joe was aware of protocol. "We need to contact the police."

"But won't we get in trouble for B & E as well?" Joe asked dubiously. "You know, since we sorta just made our own way in?"

"We can't be held up giving statements or answering questions, either," Frank seamlessly continued voicing his brother's train of thought. "We'll leave an anonymous tip and get back to the school. I know what we're going to do to figure out what's going on and to figure out the truth."

Joe stared at Frank, wondering what his brother had in mind, but remained silent while Frank made the call to the cops and then the brothers headed back toward Bayport University.

* * *

To anyone attending Bayport University's Halloween Ball, it would seem like Frank and Joe Hardy were all dressed up and ready to party. Staying true to his earlier story, on the way back to the school, Frank had stopped at a costume store and run in while Joe sat out in the car. Twenty minutes later they were back at their college, Frank wearing tattered jeans and T-shirt with white powder on the exposed skin of his body making him look like a zombie. His eyes had dark circles under them and had dull gray contacts in them and the white powder made his dark hair look a sooty gray.

Joe was wearing a long, black cloak with a suit. His hair was slicked back and some sort of itchy powdery substance made his skin chalky white. In his eyes were red contacts and fake fangs protruded from beneath his top lip. Frank found this addition extremely amusing because with the fangs in, Joe spoke with a slight lisp and spit a lot.

As they entered the student activities center, Joe hissed at Frank, "Frank, tell me  _why_ you had to be the  _thombie_ , and I wath thuck with being the vampire!"

Despite the seriousness of what the brothers were about to do, Frank couldn't help but goad his brother. "No, Joe," he said, barely containing a Cheshire cat grin, "you're doing the vampire accent wrong. You've got to substitute your  _w_ 's with  _v_ 's and sound more like something serpentine. The whole "th" thing really isn't helping your image."

Joe stuck out his tongue from between the two fangs and Frank smacked his brother on the back of the head jokingly. "Alright," he whispered seriously in Joe's ear. "You know the plan. Hang out for a little while, blend in, then we're slowly going to work our way across the center and to the back stairwell. Tanya's been getting in somehow…so there's gotta be a way to get upstairs. I'll meet you in five."

The brothers were about to separate when Kevin ran up to them. "Dudes—have you seen Tanya? She danced off a few minutes ago and I can't find her."

"She probably went to the ladies' room," Joe said and Frank nodded.

Kevin agreed. "Yeah, that's what I figured, too…but I decided it wouldn't hurt to ask. See ya!" He waved to somebody across the room and disappeared into the crowd.

Joe chuckled and even Frank had to smile. "Dude's a freakin' genius when it comes to music, but he loses everything under his nose—including his fiancé!" Frank kidded. After a few seconds, the brothers separated to make their way to the back room where the stairs used to be housed. They just had to make sure no one could tell where they were going.

"Hey!" Joe turned quickly to see a beautiful girl in a gorgeous ball gown floating toward him. She had raven black hair and emerald green eyes. A sparkly mask covered the top half of her face. She was beautiful. She was also dead.

* * *

She studied him as he saw her in person for the first time. She saw other people dancing and laughing around her, like she wasn't even there—perhaps she wasn't—but her eyes were only for him, her beloved…he had finally returned to her. Nothing could spoil this night.

He was staring at her, half in admiration and half in fright. She reached out and touched his soft cheek and this time he felt it. And then he spoke. To her.

"Emilia?" Her heart filled with pleasure as she lightly kissed his lips and then disappeared into nothingness.

* * *

Joe was still in shock at what had happened when he met Frank where the old stairwell used to be before it had been removed. Frank noticed that Joe was looking rather pale and instantly asked, "What happened?"

Joe shook his head in amazement. "I thaw her," he lisped, then grimaced and removed his vampire teeth. He cleared his throat and said, "I saw her."

"Saw who?" Frank asked, confused, then his eyes grew wide as he realized who Joe was talking about. " _Emilia_?" he breathed.

Joe nodded. "She…she was beautiful. She touched me." He reached up and put his hand on his cheek. "She kissed me."

Frank looked nervous. "Are you sure it was Emilia?"

Joe nodded. "Unless a normal, average girl knows how to just disappear into thin air."

Frank's eyes grew wide. "Did anyone else see…?"

Joe shook his head. "I don't think so…this is too weird…"

"We've got to figure this out, soon!" Frank said, pacing, wondering how they were going to be able to get to the second floor. If only Tanya would tell them, but he had a feeling that she would be very tight-lipped about it.

"Yeah, I know," Joe said wistfully. "We've got to help Emilia. She's suffered long enough."

Frank was surprised. "Joe, we're trying to stop  _you_ from getting killed here. Emilia's kind of already dead. I'd say that's beyond help."

Joe snorted. "Yeah, I guess. It's just…it's not cool being accused of doing something you didn't do…and even though Emilia  _is_ a ghost, I'd like to do something to clear her name."

"Well, that's what we're doing," Frank said. "And hopefully saving your hide while we're at it."

"Yeah, but how do we get up there?" Joe grumbled, voicing Frank's worries.

Just as he had spoken, a bright ball of glowing light appeared in the dark room. Both brothers sucked in their breath and Frank whispered, "Is that—is that Emilia?"

Joe shook his head. "No. I can't explain it, but her presence has a different feel about it. I don't think that this one is evil…"

"But it's a ghost," Frank finished, hardly believing what he was seeing with his own eyes. It was one thing to force himself to believe Joe when they both knew that there was no other explanation other than him seeing a ghost, but it was something else entirely seeing an ethereal ball of radiant energy floating ten feet in front of your face. The ball of light moved slightly, then floated back to where it had appeared. It had repeated the process several times before Joe understood.

"It wants us to follow it!" he whispered excitedly. Without a second thought, Joe hastened after the ghost-ball the next time it moved forward. Sighing at his impetuous brother, Frank quickly followed.

The ghost-ball led them to the back of the room, where it melted into one of the heavy wooden walls. Frank stared. "Well, a great load of help that was!" he snapped.

Joe looked at him and snorted.

"What?" Frank asked tersely.

"You look funny," Joe commented, barely suppressing a giggle at his brother's eerie zombie-like appearance in the dark room. He had started to sweat, so he looked spotted, like he had some sort of disease as the white powder began to clump together and melt.

"Yeah, well, we can't all be beautiful," he joked, looking at his brother's similar complexion. "Including you."

Joe was about to retort when the ball of light appeared again, glowing a little more fiercely this time, weaving in and out of the wood paneling of the wall. "Hmmm…" Frank said, cringing away from the ghostly light as it floated near his head. As if offended, the ball zipped away and melted indignantly into the ceiling.

"Now look what you did," Joe whined. "You hurt its feelings."

"Me?" Frank said. "We don't know what that… _thing_ …is! Excuse me for being a little wary of it!" He took a deep breath. "But it doesn't matter, because I know what he—it—she—whatever, was trying to tell us." He reached out and put his hand on the spot where the ghost-ball had first disappeared into the wall. He pressed down and felt a section of the wall give way and heard a grating sound as the wall slid aside, revealing a secret passageway. "Yes!" He peered into the dark hole and dimly saw rickety wooden stairs leading up to what he assumed would be the second story.

Joe clapped his brother on the back. "Way to go, dude! Who knew you could speak 'ghost'!"

Frank couldn't help but grin. "Told you I'm bi-lingual," he bragged as the brothers entered the passageway. The lighthearted mood ended abruptly as the passageway door slammed shut behind them. In total darkness, Frank couldn't see his own hand two feet in front of him, let alone his brother, but he could make out the dripping sarcasm in his brother's voice as Joe commented, "Yeah, should've seen that coming," he chastised both himself and Frank.

"How are we going to get to the top of the stairs now?"

Again, as if in response to his question, the ball of light appeared at the top of the stairs, giving the boys enough light to maneuver their way to the top of the staircase. When they got there, the ball of light disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Joe chuckled. "Elusive little booger, isn't he?"

Frank shook his head at the humor in Joe's voice. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked.

"Enjoying what?" came Joe's voice from the pressing darkness.

"Playing Ghost-Busters," was Frank's retort.

"Heck yeah," came Joe's enthusiastic response. "I mean, all our lives we've been in this box thinking that everything has a logical explanation. Now that I know what's going on, this has turned from terrifying to awesome in a matter of seconds! Two ghosts in one night! Sweet!"

Frank's voice grew hushed as he groped blindly for the door handle.

"Yeah, but what about those dreams? Those warnings? Are those still cool?"

Joe hesitated, having briefly forgotten about the fact that in his dreams it was him being killed instead of Edmund. Frank found the handle and slowly pushed the door open. Joe was about to say something else when the dimly lit hallway—light supply candles only—was revealed to them. Frank stopped short, staring at a painting on the wall. Joe bumped into him, but bit off a sarcastic remark as his eyes traveled up to the painting as well. "Holy…" he breathed.

He and Frank stumbled into the hallway and the door slammed shut behind them—not of their own doing. The boys jumped and looked behind them, but quickly jerked their eyes onto the painting of Edmund Smithers.

"They weren't warnings that I was going to get stabbed by a deranged ghost on Halloween," Joe whispered. "I was just seeing a vision of the past. That was Emilia's way of asking for help, I guess. Because, see, that guy in my dream wasn't me—it was Edmund after all!"

Frank nodded numbly, still staring at the portrait.

Edmund Smithers looked exactly like Joe Hardy. The similarities were so striking, so similar, that they could be twins. Frank racked his brain, trying to remember if Edmund could be one of their ancestors. But no, he couldn't—Frank had studied their family tree and knew their lineage back until the late seventeen hundreds.

"Handsome, wasn't he?"

The voice came out of nowhere, and the boys spun around. Emilia Reynard's ghost was standing in front of them, tears misting her pale, almost translucent, eyes of an intoxicating green.

Joe grinned, not quite as shocked at Frank seemed to be. Apparently, the more logical of the brothers was having a difficult time accepting what used to be fiction as fact. "Well, considering the striking similarities," he joked,

"I'd say he was just about the sexiest guy on the whole plantation."

Emilia let out a sweet, charming giggle like the tinkling of bells. "You are funny. I'm so glad you came to help me, Joe." She smiled, then turned to Frank.

"I see you brought your brother. Hello, Frank."

Frank simply stared at her, open-mouthed. Emilia looked a bit hurt. Joe, afraid that she would fly off like the other ghost had, quickly said, "Don't be offended—he does that to all the ghosts."

Again, Emilia laughed gaily. "Charmed, I'm sure," she said to Frank.

The elder Hardy finally found his voice and got straight to business. "Um, Ms. Reynard, why exactly did you…erm…contact my brother? Why do you need his help?"

"He looks so much like my Edmund," Emilia sighed dreamily, "I just felt I could trust him. I haven't been able to trust anyone, but I am in desperate need of help." She sighed, then gently took Joe's hand. "Joe Hardy, will you walk with me? I want to show you something." Joe nodded and started off with Frank right behind.

"Frank, you can wait in the bedroom," Emilia said sweetly, pointing a pale finger to a door on the right. "This is something I have to talk to Joe about alone…since I…erm…contacted him."

Frank shook his head. "Nuh-uh, no way, I'm not leaving my brother alone for a second. Whatever you want to say to him you can say in front of me."

Emilia looked sad. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to make you suspicious. But I don't feel comfortable telling my story to anyone, only Joe because he has a face I can trust. Give me five minutes?" she pleaded.

Joe nodded to his brother and mouthed, "It's okay." Frank reluctantly sat down on the bed in the room Emilia had indicated and said stonily. "Five minutes. Any longer, and I'll be coming."

Emilia nodded. "Very good. I wouldn't have it any other way. We'll be upstairs in my room—the second door on the right."


	6. Chapter 6

"My story is a very sad one," Emilia said as she stood in the middle of the room. Joe sat on her bed a bit uncomfortably. The way Emilia was looking at him was predatory, a bit creepy. He kind of wished he had allowed Frank to go with them. "But of course, you know it, my dear."

"Um…yeah…" Joe stammered as she took a step forward. "Erm…Kevin told it to me."

"No," said Emilia airily. "Try to remember. You know it from so many years ago."

"What are you talking about?" Joe asked as she moved in closer.

"Come on, you know I didn't kill you! You know who did! My love, you cannot deny us any longer! How much longer will this façade go on?"

Joe stared in shock.  _She thinks I'm Edmund,_  he thought warily.  _Maybe my dream_ was  _a warning._ He glanced at his watch. It had been nearly five minutes since they had left.  _Hurry up, big brother. I'm not so sure about Ms. Casper anymore._

* * *

Frank had decided as soon as they left that he was going to follow them. He didn't like being separated from Joe up here, and leaving him alone with that…ghost…wasn't feasible in the slightest. Truth be told, he was never going to allow them to just leave. He was playing along, however, so that they could figure out exactly what Emilia wanted with his brother.

He stood up, ready to follow them, when he felt something sharp and metallic at his neck. A feminine voice hissed, "Don't move, boy. I wouldn't want to hurt you. I just want your brother…so if you cooperate, one of you  _might_ get out of here alive tonight…"

* * *

Joe was worried about Frank. He knew that Frank would have followed them regardless, and was sure that he would have barged in when he saw that Joe was getting uncomfortable. But he hadn't.

Meanwhile, Joe looked at Emilia and said calmly, "I'm not Edmund. I am Joe Hardy."

"You must remember!" Her eyes lit up. "We shall go along with the plan, regardless!" she announced loudly. "Surely he will remember when he sees me walk down the aisle…"

"What—no—" said Joe as he got up and backed away. "Look, Emilia, I'm sorry you lost someone you loved—so did I! Why don't you tell me what happened—what really happened to Edmund? Then I can really help clear your name."

Suddenly Joe felt a cold, deadly knife at his back and heard a harsh female voice whisper, "No name clearing. I may know that you're Joe Hardy, but she doesn't. And you're going to go along with everything I tell you because  _Emilia will be happy_. You  _are_ Edmund Smithers and you  _will_ remember everything. You will go along with everything that Emilia's ghost says…because I have someone you love…and I'll kill your brother if you don't cooperate." The knife was removed and Joe was able to face off the person who had threatened his brother.

Joe turned around and was utterly shocked to see none other than Tanya Whiteheart standing behind him. But was she Tanya…? She looked so different…pale, nearly translucent…

"Tanya!" Emilia's ghost breathed, seeing the apparition as well. "Why can you see me? How? You have never been able to see me before…and though I have watched your endeavors as you have attempted to find out the truth about my dear Edmund, I have not once allowed you to see me or feel my presence." The ghost took in the girl's features and tears welled up in her startling green eyes.

"Tanya…who killed you?"

Joe felt his stomach tighten as he realized why Tanya Whiteheart looked so see-through—she had been killed, sometime tonight, and for some reason, instead of "going on" or whatever it was spirits were supposed to do after they had left their bodies, her soul had remained in the student center and was now threatening to kill Joe and his brother. He felt a pang of remorse as he remembered how quickly he and Frank had brushed off Tanya's disappearance when Kevin had told them about not being able to find her.  _We should have looked for her…_

The next words sent a jolt of anger and shock into his soul. "Who killed me? That miserable excuse for a man, Zachariah Martin, that is who!"

"Wait, Professor Martin did this to you?" Joe asked softly and Tanya's ghost nodded bitterly.

"I was dancing with Kevin, hoping that I could just forget about my mission to clear Emilia's name for one night and have fun. I danced off towards the ladies' room when I was grabbed and brought up here to the old storage room I spent so much time in searching, and then I was facing  _Professor Martin_ ," she said with a sneer. "He started ranting about how no one was ever going to find out the truth of what really happened that night and that I was getting too close. Then he stabbed me, the devil! But enough chit-chat," she said airily. "By killing me, Martin only gave me better means by which to finally fulfill my mission."

"Yeah, yeah, clear Emilia's name," Joe said, rolling his blue eyes.

"No, that's what I thought my goal was for four years now…but really, my mission is to make Emilia happy, any way I can. For once she is truly happy, only then can she move on."

Emilia's eyes welled with tears as she embraced her great-great granddaughter lovingly. "Oh, my precious, I am truly blessed to have a great child like you looking out for my old soul," she whispered. "But now that Edmund is here, I couldn't care less about what people whisper and think about me…all I want to do is finally get married like we were supposed to do all along."

"B-but…who did murder Edmund? Surely righting the wrong done against you both would be much better than marrying me," Joe protested weakly.

"Edmund, silly, we have no more time for these trivial games…I believe we both know the scum that fooled you into thinking she was I before gutting you," Emilia said bluntly. "I tire of this. Please, let us get married like we were meant to do two hundred years ago." She glanced at Tanya's ghost. "My dear, will you show him to the room where he can dress for the wedding? Help him get ready and then I will meet you in my chambers once again for the ceremony."

* * *

Joe was herded out of Emilia's room, down the stairs, and into a large, clear room on the far right of the second story hallway. "Tanya, why are you doing this?" Joe asked as he preceded her into the room.

Ignoring him, Tanya pointed to the floor where Joe gasped at what he saw. Frank was tied up in the floor while a very real, very deadly, axe hovered in midair just over his neck, ready to slice him apart in a second. "Frank…" he whispered.

Tanya smiled. "That axe will stay put as long as he doesn't try to escape, you don't do what I say, or you try to untie him." She indicated to a finely tailored suit that looked like it had come from the eighteen hundreds and said, "This was supposed to be Edmund's wedding suit. You can change into it. Make sure you look acceptable and then be out of the room in fifteen minutes…remember what I said about your brother and the axe…don't test me, Joe…" And she left the room.

Instantly, Joe was at Frank's side with his hand on his arm. "Frank, are you okay?"

Frank nodded stiffly, then whispered, "Joe, I'm sorry…I was going to follow you, but Tanya captured me. What is she wanting you to do? And what's with the monkey suit?" he tried to cut a bit of tension, referring to Edmund's suit in the corner.

Joe swallowed. "Emilia thinks that I'm Edmund come back to her. She wants me to marry her."

Frank's eyes went wide. "But…you're not. She sent Tanya to blackmail you into marrying her?"

Joe shook his head. "No. Tanya's doing this on her own." He lowered his voice. "Did you notice she looked a bit different?"

Frank nodded again. "Yeah, I thought it was the light. What are you saying?"

"Frank…Tanya's dead. That's her ghost. Martin murdered her tonight…that's why Kevin couldn't find her."

Frank felt his eyes stinging. "Aw, man, poor Kevin…and that stupid Martin! Why'd he kill Tanya anyway? And why does Tanya care if you marry Emilia? Why didn't she 'go on' or whatever?"

Joe shrugged. "Tanya said he killed her because she was getting too close to the truth about what happened the night Edmund was killed. Apparently, Tanya's mission is to do whatever she can to make Emilia happy, and all Emilia wants now is to be reunited with Edmund. As for why she didn't go on, I can only guess…"

Tanya reappeared out of thin air right beside them, making both boys jump.

Frank cringed as the suspended axe swayed a bit like it was going to fall on him, but it remained in place. "I'll tell you why; we've got a few minutes before Edmund here has to be ready for his wedding."

"But I'm not—" Joe began, but stopped abruptly when the axe above Frank's neck descended a fraction of an inch.

"Very good. Now…since I was so focused on clearing Emilia's name during my life, unhealthily obsessed, even, that need carried on into my afterlife even stronger. I can't move on until I have fulfilled my duty here on earth, just as Emilia can't move on until she has been reunited with Edmund…or believes that she has…"

"So you've been plotting this since you died, what, an hour ago?" Joe said in disbelief. "Gosh, you're devious."

Tanya smiled sadly. "Look, Joe, Frank, you guys were always really nice to me, and I feel bad for doing this. But I do not want to spend eternity stuck in this attic where I spend most of my last four years. I want to go on, to something better, hopefully…so I'll do anything to put my soul—and Emilia's—at rest."

Frank considered this for a moment, then said, "Why does Joe have to pretend to be Edmund? Isn't his ghost around here somewhere, too?"

Tanya looked puzzled. "I've wondered that myself. From what I can discern from the situation, I would say that since someone—and I still don't know who, Emilia won't tell me—killed Edmund and framed Emilia for it, Edmund can't truly return until the truth is known…I suspect he's locked up in the house somewhere, but unable to be set free. I've been looking for years for proof of who really killed Edmund, but I haven't found anything. Since you two were already up here, and Joe is nearly identical to Edmund, it seemed much simpler to do what I'm doing now."

The brothers stared at each other, each remembering the ghost-ball that had aided them twice already. Could that have been Edmund's spirit, trapped and searching for help?

Joe looked at Tanya imploringly. "But I can't marry Emilia. She's dead; I'm not."

"Don't worry about a thing, Joe," Tanya said carefully, smiling wickedly at the boy. "That can quickly be remedied."

"What do you mean?" Frank demanded, his heart pumping in fear for his brother.

"The human life is a very fragile thing, Frank." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial of red liquid. "Just one drop of this poison can take it away…"

"No!" Frank screamed. "You are not going to kill Joe!"

Tanya allowed the axe to drop another inch closer to Frank's exposed throat.

"NO!" Joe roared, his face deadly pale but determined. "I'll go along with whatever you want," he said, his voice wavering, "just don't hurt my brother."

Tanya smiled at him and said, "Very good, Joe. Your brother will go on to live a perfectly happy life after all this is over. Now, please get dressed, Edmund, your bride awaits you."

She melted into a mist and disappeared.

* * *

"Joe, you are  _not_ going to do this!" Frank practically sobbed as he watched his "baby" brother stand numbly and start to strip off his vampire costume.

Joe, his lips pressed tight, ignored him and began to dress in the old wedding suit. "Joe…please…" Frank gasped out as Joe walked over to a water basin in front of a cracked mirror near the front of the room. He reached into the basin and splashed some stagnant water on his face, rinsing off the melting powder, makeup, and grime from his Halloween costume. He stood up, took an old silver brush that had been so thoughtfully left for him by the basin, and ran it through his blonde locks.

"JOE!" Frank nearly screamed and finally Joe turned to face him.

Frank was aghast at the fear and sadness portrayed in his brother's sapphire gaze. Fear of what was about to happen to him. Sadness of what it was going to do to Frank. He knelt down next to his helpless brother, a lone tear running down his cheek. "I'm s-sorry, Frank," he choked out. He took a deep breath and whispered, "I-I don't want to die."

Frank felt an anger piercing his gut so intense it threatened to overthrow every logical thought. He was literally seeing red, furious at what Tanya was doing. Frank wanted more than anything to touch his brother, hug him and tell him that he wasn't going to die and that everything would be okay…but he couldn't. For heaven's sake, he was tied up in a corner with a deadly weapon suspended over his bared neck! "Little Brother," he finally managed to choke out from behind the tears gushing down his face. "You don't have to die. Just refuse to do what she's telling you…or prove to Emilia that you're really not who you think she is."

"No," Joe said with resolve. "Because then you'll die, and I would do anything to prevent that from happening." He bit his lip and said huskily, "I would die for you a thousand times, brother."

From somewhere in the back of his mind, a Bible verse pushed itself forward into Frank's mind from Sunday School years and years ago, perhaps.  _Greater love hath no man than this: that he would give up his life for a friend._

Frank was overwhelmed with the greatest sense of love and gratitude toward his younger brother. He didn't see an annoying kid who lived to bug the crap out of his big brother. He didn't see an impetuous hothead who would propel himself into danger just for the heck of it. What he saw was the most brave, noble, and caring person he had ever been blessed to meet…

"Joe…"

"Frank, it's okay. I won't let you die." He paused. "I love you big brother."

Without another word, Joe turned on his heel, squared his shoulders, and walked out of the room to his death.


	7. Chapter 7

If Emilia had been breathing, her breath would have been taken away by the image of her Edmund walking into her chambers alongside her lovely great-great granddaughter, Tanya. She had been waiting for this day for two hundred years. He was stunning, yet there was something about him that didn't look quite right, but she couldn't put a finger on it…

She floated to her future husband, putting a frigid hand on his pale cheek. He shuddered a bit at her touch but after glancing at Tanya, remained still. He allowed her hands to travel through his wavy blonde hair, over his broad shoulders, and down his tensed back muscles. He closed his eyes briefly when her lips met his, and he kissed her back, stiffly, when she pulled his head forward, putting every bit of passion she had for this man into her kiss. When she bit down softly on his lower lip, he flinched, but otherwise didn't react. Something wasn't right…the Edmund she remembered would have responded immediately at her show of passion.

Could he really be someone else like he had been insisting all along? But, no, it was impossible. She pulled back at drank in the sight of his face.

There was no way he  _wasn't_ Edmund. "Tanya," she said. "Can you prepare the goblets for the wedding? I know that things are different in this day and age, but I want our marriage to be exactly as it would have been had we gotten to wed when we were supposed to—intertwined arms with a sip of wine."

* * *

Joe Hardy was having a difficult time controlling his emotions. He stood in the middle of Emilia's bed chambers, seconds away from marrying a ghost and dying. He wasn't sure if the marriage would actually be binding and legal, since there wasn't a ghostly priest about anywhere, but he was positive that it would be symbolic enough and strong enough to finally give Emilia what she was searching for so that her spirit could move on…but, he wondered morbidly, what would become of his soul when he died? He would like to think that he would go to heaven, having been attending church at a young age, knowing the Bible, and being what most people stereotyped as a "Christian". He had been fairly certain of his destination…until now.

Obviously ghosts did exist, which meant that some of them stayed on earth to finish their business…until now he had been positive that there were only two places for the soul when the body died and that he would be going up instead of down, but now he couldn't even be sure that he'd go either way. He was terrified that his soul would be stuck in-between like the tortured Emilia, Edmund, even Tanya…

He just didn't know anymore.

He saw Emilia moving toward him, felt her icy hand on his face. She felt solid enough, as she had every time he had seen her, although she did have a translucent glow about her. He felt her soft hands gently run through his hair and caress his shoulders. When her hands slid lightly down his back, he tensed but managed to remain still. Soon, she was kissing him with a passion that Vanessa had never even mustered when kissing Joe. If he hadn't been so terrified, he very well could have melted into her ministrations. She bit down on his lower lip and it took everything he had not to pull away.

Finally, she released him and started to speak. His mind was numb with fear and shock when he heard her say something about goblets and wine.

 _Oh dear God,_ he prayed, eyes uplifted, knowing his death was upon him.  _Help me. Please._

* * *

His brother was going to die. Frank Hardy knew this as surely as he knew the axe hovering over him was real and deadly. He had to get free and save his brother—but how?

He decided that he couldn't just lie here and do nothing—even if he wound up dead, at least he would have been trying to save his brother's life. "No, Joe won't die," he said aloud, determined to save both his life, but more importantly, his brother's. Frank had never seen Joe so determined or so petrified before. It had rattled him, and he was more resolved than ever to get free and save his brother's life.

But how?

Then he remembered the glowing ball of light that had helped them twice before…Edmund, maybe? Surely if it—or he—had been willing to aid them just to help them get into the place, then he wouldn't turn his back—figuratively, of course—on them now.

"Help!" he called out. "Please, help, I have to go save my brother!"

Nothing happened. In despair, Frank screamed, tears running down his face, smearing the zombie makeup even more: "Edmund, please help me!"

Frank closed his eyes and allowed the tears to flow. When he opened them again, he was shocked to see that he was still lying on the ground, but the axe was embedded into the floor beside him, harmless now. He saw the ghost-ball—Edmund—slowly melt away into nothing and felt overwhelming gratitude toward this ghost, a bit of hope welling up in his heart as he rolled over toward the axe and began to use the blade to slice through his bonds. When he was free, he jumped up and raced toward the stairs—he had to save Joe!

* * *

The wedding was merely symbolic of what would have been, but it was exactly what unfinished business Emilia's spirit had to attend to before she could move on. Joe knew this as he stood in front of her, their arms linked, as she spoke to him quietly and lovingly.

"Edmund, my love, I vow my love to thee, my life to thee, my death to thee, my soul to thee. My oath to you tonight as we wed is to cherish you and remain in your arms for all of eternity, until kingdom comes." She lifted her chalice of red wine and tipped it into her mouth, and Joe wondered distantly if it had just went right through her or if she had actually swallowed it.

Then it was his turn. He tried to still his shaking voice and the numbing fear in his mind about what would happen when he took his sip of wine—poisoned wine, he knew. A tear ran down his cheek, but he knew that Emilia took it as a tear of joy and he began to stammer "his" vows.

 _Remember Frank. He'll be able to live because of this. You are_ not  _dying in vain, Hardy, you're saving someone's life!_  These thoughts gave him strength and courage as he began to recite the vows. When he had finished, Tanya and Emilia looked at him expectantly and he knew what he had to do.

He brought the goblet to his pale, trembling lips and took the sip that would end his life…

His head spun as the poison entered his system and he felt his knees buckle. He slid out of Emilia's arms and hit the floor hard, knowing he was dying. Before everything went black, he heard the door slam open and his brother's hoarse, " _NOOOOOOO!"_ Then he saw a bright light and everything faded away…

* * *

Frank Hardy burst into the room just in time to see Joe take a sip of the wine in the goblet and almost immediately slump to the floor.

 _"NOOOOOOO!"_  The word escaped his mouth and he flew across the room to his brother's side.

Emilia stood behind him, frantic. "What is happening to him?"

Frank didn't answer, he was too busy checking his vitals. Joe had a pulse, an extremely weak one, but he was alive. For not much longer, though.

He needed Edmund's help, one last time. "EDMUND!" he screamed up at the ceiling. "Joe is dying! Do something—anything!" Nothing. He felt his brother's pulse. Weaker. Barely breathing. On a whim, he made a proposal, "I promise, Edmund, if you'll save my brother, I swear we will clear Emilia's name and make sure your real murderer is revealed! Please!"

Suddenly there was a bright light in the small bed chamber. Edmund's ghost-ball floated in from the ceiling toward Joe, and Frank quickly scrambled out of the way of the ghost. To his amazement, the ghost light entered Joe's body and another blinding flash of light illuminated the room, this time coming from Joe's chest.

The boy was lifted into the air, his arms outstretched, eyes closed, looking more peaceful than Frank had ever seen him. A voice rang out of nothingness.  _I will grant your request, Frank Hardy. I have been trapped within these walls as a mere phantom, a ball of energy. Until you and your brother came along, I wasn't able to find my way out or to find my Emilia…but thanks to you and your brother's noble intentions, I have found her once again. I will return your brother to you…but please…do as you have said and clear my Love's name. I cannot bear to hear the atrocities people have said about her._

The voice died away and from Joe's body stepped an exact duplicate of the younger Hardy himself, this one transparent and deathly pale.  _Edmund._ He floated to the ground and embraced Emilia who held him, trembling.

Joe dropped heavily to the floor.

Breaking the silence was a wail from Tanya's ghost. "I'm so sorry," she whimpered in her great-great grandmother's direction. "I should never have done any of this!"

As Frank lunged forward to check on Joe, she continued. "I was just so determined to move on after Martin killed me! I didn't want to be stuck here forever like you, Emilia! I was willing to do anything to avoid an afterlife like yours started out like."

Frank felt his brother's pulse. Strong and healthy once again. He heard a slow exhale of breath and Joe's intense blue eyes fluttered open, looking shocked to see Frank crouching beside him. "We're alive?" he whispered, then jumped up and threw his arms around his brother's neck.

The touching moment was cut short as a brilliant white light blasted through the windows and roof, enveloping Tanya, Emilia, and Edmund. As they floated slowly and gracefully up to whatever the source of the light was, Emilia called, "Thank you so much! Don't forget your promise! Look in the trunk in Edmund's room hidden behind the secret panel. Thank you!"

They had moved on.

* * *

"I can't believe that no one had ever really looked in Edmund's room," Joe commented as the brothers began a meticulous search for the secret panel that had been mentioned.

"I guess everyone assumed that since it was her journal, she would hide it in her room," Frank shrugged as he continued searching. He stopped for a moment, then turned to Joe. "Joe…I never said thank you."

Joe looked a little surprised. "Thank you? For what?"

"For having a greater love for me. For being willing to sacrifice your life in order to save me."

Joe blushed. "It was nothing, really."

Frank put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Joe, we may be detectives and used to more danger than most people our age, but we're still human and  _you're_ not Superman, no matter how much you believe that you are."

Joe chuckled slightly in response as Frank continued. "I saw how terrified you were Joe. You weren't doing anything to save yourself, you were quietly letting Tanya take you to your death…for me."

Joe felt hot tears prick the corners of his eyes. "I couldn't let anything happen to you, big brother."

"Thank you," Frank said, embracing his little brother and hugging him tightly. "I love you."

Suddenly Joe broke away, his face deathly pale. "Oh my gosh."

"What?" Frank said, alarmed.

"Kevin," Joe breathed, and Frank froze as the implications of what Joe was saying struck him. Kevin was going to be crushed when he found out that Tanya had been murdered.

Frank scrubbed a hand over his face and finally said quietly, "All we can do is be there for him when he finds out and find Martin, testify against him, and bring him to justice. But that can wait. We need to do what we promised Edmund and Emilia first—find that journal and the proof we need."

* * *

Zachariah Martin had just returned from disposing of Tanya Whiteheart's body and was completely unaware at the drama that had unfolded while he had been gone. In his mind, he now, more than ever, needed to destroy the proof that Emilia didn't kill Edmund. He had to find the journal!

He was passing by Edmund's room when he heard male voices from inside.

"—find that journal and the proof we need," came Frank Hardy's voice and he heard his brother, the horrid boy that looked just like the fool Edmund and had to be disposed of just for that atrocity—voice his agreement.

So the boy detectives were going to find the journal for him. How nice of them! Martin thought sarcastically. He sat down right outside of the door and waited, hoping that they would find it soon.

* * *

After nearly an hour of searching, Joe finally discovered that one of the posts on Edmund's bed frame could be twisted to reveal a small button underneath. Pushing it, it opened a secret panel in the wall beside the bed.

Elated, Frank and Joe took the old book out of its hiding place. "We found it," Joe whispered.

The boys opened the journal and began to read; some of the more important passages catching their eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

_**August 22, 1862** _

_I attended the party of a certain Edmund Smithers this evening on my friend Adelaide's insistence. You see, she has been to several of Mr. Smithers' parties and assured me that I would not regret attending; it would help me get my mind off of the war and the constant danger that Arnold is in. I dared not mention to her that I have all but given up hope that this war will end in my lifetime, or that even if it does, that Arnold will return to me, alive and whole._

_I decided to attend the party for the reasons Adelaide provided me with. I wore my nicest gown, but still felt like a pauper amidst all the noblemen and women that attended. I was feeling rather uncomfortable and wishing I had stayed home when I caught sight of my host, Edmund Smithers._

_Words cannot describe what a magnificent creature he was, dancing lithely across the ballroom in his navy formal wear and a self-assured, slightly cocky but oh-so-brilliant smile on his face. He made my heart race in a way that even Arnold has never achieved. I am sorry; I do not know what came over me, thinking such things, but sometimes it is so hard, knowing that my husband is fighting in a war against our own nation, our own brothers. I haven't seen Arnold in over a year, and it is a rare day when I receive a letter from him at all. When I saw Mr. Smithers dancing so gracefully across the ballroom floor with a stunning raven-haired woman, my heart melted at the sight of him._

_I suppose it wouldn't hurt to attend the party Mr. Smithers is having next week. Adelaide was right. I did enjoy myself and it did take my mind off of my troubles…and Arnold…for a while._

* * *

 

_**August 29, 1862** _

_Oh! I do believe my heart is on a cloud! I attended another one of Mr. Smithers' parties this evening and once again, was not disappointed in the slightest! In fact, I had a much better time than I had at the last ball!_

_For the first time, Edmund Smithers sought me out and spoke to me. My heart was all aflutter and I really tried to still my frazzled nerves, but he was even more handsome than ever, up close. "Hello," he said to me in a deep, pleasant voice that reminded me of how an Angel might sound._

_It was difficult for me to force a reply out, but eventually I was able to stammer, "Thank you, My Lord, for your kind invitation to your lovely event."_

_He looked at me with those blue eyes—so magnificently stunning!—and my heart told me what I had subconsciously known from the first time I had laid eyes on him. I am madly in love with this beautiful man that I have never met!_

_But, alas, I am married and I have little Camilla to think of as well. She has been staying with her nursemaid while I attend these parties. Clara (the nursemaid) knows where I have been and knows about Edmund, but she has told me many times that "Master Arnold ain't comin' back, child" and I "might as well go searchin' for me a new man to court". Ah! Part of me wants so badly to do as she says and tell Edmund of my love for him, but I know, deep inside of me, that my feelings are wrong._

_Edmund and I talked for hours tonight, until the beautiful black-haired woman he had been dancing with at the last party came up to us. She glared at me stonily, then asked Edmund if he wanted to dance. He looked between she and I, and then gently turned her down, saying that he was in the middle of something extremely important right now. The young woman—who I afterwards learned was named Valarie Prince—looked very angry and stalked off. We didn't see her the rest of the night._

* * *

 

The boys looked up from their reading. "Whoa," said Joe. "Emilia was head over heels for this guy she had barely even spoken to."

"I know," said Frank. "This is a very touching story and all, but right now, I'm not seeing much evidence that Emilia didn't kill Edmund."

"Well, that's because we're too far ahead," Joe said impatiently, not wanting to read the journal cover-to-cover just yet. He wanted to find the evidence and then get out of there. He had a creepy feeling, one of his gut-instincts, that something wasn't quite right. Like they had forgotten one important factor for a moment…

He shrugged off the feeling and continued on with what he had been saying. "We're in 1862, see? The murder happened on Halloween night, 1864!"

"I know that!" Frank defended himself. "But you never know what might prove to be important later on."

"Well, let's at least skip ahead to 1864! It looks like she's got a novel written in here over the rest of 1862 and 1863, and I can about guarantee that most of it is gushy stuff about she and Edmund."

Frank reluctantly nodded, noting how his brother seemed to be glancing around. He wondered what had gotten Joe so paranoid, but he dismissed the feeling and flipped forward about twenty-five pages until they found an entry dated in 1864.

* * *

 

_**January 14, 1864** _

_Today a soldier came to my home and informed me that Arnold had been killed in battle. My emotions are conflicting; I am sad that such an important person in my life is gone, but also a bit relieved that what Edmund and I have no longer has to be kept a secret because it is a "scandal". Do not misunderstand, I did and still do love Arnold very much, but not in the same way I used to, or even in the same way that I have ever loved Edmund. I am extremely sorry that he is gone, and Edmund held me for hours tonight as I cried into his chest._

_He is so strong and handsome at his age. Twenty-four years old, and he is probably more filled-out than Arnold ever was, and he fought in battles every day._

_Ah! Curses on me, why do I speak of such things? I am very sorry that my husband is dead. He was a very nice man and would have been a wonderful father to Camilla if he had ever met her, but alas, she was born after he had already left to go fight._

_Father, afraid that I, in my distress, am in no fit shape to care for my two-year-old daughter, has taken custody of her. It saddens me that she is living with her grandfather, but I know that Father will take very good care of her and he only has her (and my) best interests at heart. He is truly a man of God._

_Edmund has graciously taken me into his home. Most people are very tolerant, awed at his generosity in helping a hurt and sorrowful widow. And he is so generous. I am so lucky to have met Edmund._

_He still has his parties every chance he gets,, and people from far and wide still attend every chance they get. I have no problem with that, except for Valarie Prince's perfect attendance to these celebrations._

_Now that she knows for sure that Edmund and I are madly in love, she has taken to harassing us every chance she gets. I do not understand why she feels the need to do so. I have a feeling that Edmund knows the truth but he seems unwilling to talk about it._

_I hope, however, with a bit of charm and persuasion, that I will be able to get the truth out of him._

_Totally entranced in Emilia's side of the story now, but needing to find the evidence they needed, the brothers reluctantly skipped forward a few pages until they were in Emilia's October entries._

* * *

 

**_October 17, 1864_ **

_I found out why Valarie Prince has been so rude toward Edmund and I today. He finally decided, after a particularly nasty incident complete with much threatening and name-calling on her part, that it was time for me to know the truth._

_He used to court Valarie, and the night that he met me was the night he decided that he and Valarie were not right together. He had broken it off, and she had been very angry. Edmund told me that he had been considering ending their relationship before that, however, because Ms. Prince was extremely obsessive about her relationships and those she loved._

_In all honesty, Valarie Prince scares me a bit. Edmund claims that she is harmless enough, but the venom I saw in her eyes tonight when she called me an unspeakable name still chills me to the bone. Ah, Edmund…why must you be so irresistible?_

* * *

 

Frank and Joe looked at each other, eyes wide. Joe looked at Frank. "I think I know what's coming next," he said ominously. Frank nodded. They continued to read.

* * *

 

_**October 27, 1864** _

_There is talk that the war may end sometime this year or early next. Edmund is so excited about this that he told me he is going to throw the biggest celebration he has ever had in four days—on Halloween day. I jokingly told him that it was a bad sign. He insists, however._

_Something scary did happen today. I received an ominous letter from Valarie Prince warning me that Edmund was hers and no one else's. She then told me to stay away from him or I would pay—and so would he. I have been struggling about whether or not to tell_

_Edmund about the threat, but he has been so busy as of late and so happy—I do not think that I could ruin his good spirits and light temper with something of such trivial jealousy. I do hope I am right in my decision not to tell him of the letter._

* * *

 

The next entry was extremely difficult to read because the words ran together because of tear stains.

* * *

 

**_October 31, 1864_ **

_We are going to die._

_I should have told Edmund about the letter Valarie Prince sent, but I didn't think it was anything to worry him about. I was so very, very wrong._

_I can hear the music coming from the ballroom, even though it is below Edmund's room. He is probably dancing with Valarie right now, about to kiss or propose to her._

_As I was getting ready for the 'grandest ball of all time', I was in Edmund's room when Valarie Prince entered and threatened me with a knife. She then ordered me to take off my ball gown. I was ashamed, but I had to strip down to my corset and underskirt. She then put on my dress and mask._

_She said that she hated me because I had stolen Edmund from her. She knew that he would never love her because of me, and if she couldn't have him, no one could._

_I knew then that we were going to die._

_She told me her plan: she was going to style her hair like mine, wear my dress, and my mask. We both have black hair and her eyes are a slightly different shade of green than mine, but unless he looks very closely Edmund will not be able to tell the difference between Valarie and I until she takes the knife out of her dress and kills him with it._

_My poor Edmund! I cannot bear the thought of losing him, yet there is nothing that I can do to save him. I can only pray that God will intervene, and if He abandons us, then I just pray and hope that Edmund will realize that it wasn't me that killed him like Valarie wishes he would believe._

_The rest of her plan is simple. The people attending the ball will assume that she is I and after she escapes, they will find me in Edmund's room and charge me with murdering my beloved. They will have me hanged._

_I do not care. Life without Edmund is truly no life at all. I would much rather die than be forced to live out the rest of my life knowing that he was gone and that I couldn't ever see him again…I love him so much!_

_I am writing this in my diary in hopes that someone will eventually come along and find it, and clear my name someday. I shall leave a cryptic clue to all present at my hanging, and hope that Father tells little Camilla of my innocence and how to find the truth when she is older. I do not want to be known as a murderess forever._

_I have to hide the journal though, because no one knows I have it, let alone where it is. If Valarie were to find it, she would have it destroyed because of the evidence I have declaring her guilt written on these pages._

_I know that eventually a relative of hers will learn of the diary and seek it out, but I hope and pray someone else finds it before that person does._

_Oh Lord, save me! Save Edmund!_

_She must have killed him; I can hear their pounding feet chasing after her. I know that soon they will find me. I will plead that they hang me without putting me in jail first or even giving me a trial. I just want to die now that Edmund has been so brutally murdered!_

_I can hear their feet scraping the hallways near the door. I must hide my diary in the panel in hopes that my name will be cleared someday._

_Ah, what a tragic turn my life has taken._

_Goodbye forever._

**_Emilia Alison Reynard_ **


	9. Chapter 9

"I knew it!" Joe crowed. "Emilia didn't kill Edmund; this Valarie woman did, all because she was so obsessively jealous because Edmund loved Emilia instead of her. Sounds like she had a few screws loose…"

"That may have been passed down from generation to generation!" Frank concluded excitedly, his brain going a million miles a second.

Joe looked at him, baffled. "Frank, what are you talking about?"

"Joe, why do you think Martin was so angry after class today? Why did he kill Tanya and most likely those four boys who came up here a few years ago?"

Joe's eyes lit up. "Because they were getting too close. He knew about the journal and was afraid that they were going to find evidence that proved Emilia didn't kill Edmund." He wrinkled his nose. "But why should that matter?"

"It wasn't exactly that he was afraid they'd prove that Emilia didn't kill Edmund, but who they could have proved actually killed him!"

Joe jumped up, his back to the door like Frank's, still standing behind his brother and staring at the piece of treasure they had found from over his brother's shoulder. "You're so right!" he enthused. "Zachariah Martin is Valarie Prince's great grandson!"

A chilling voice from the doorway instantly killed the light mood. "Too right, you will," Professor Martin announced lazily from his position leaning against the door frame. He held a pistol in one hand and was fingering a long dagger with the left.

He lashed out with surprising speed and grabbed Joe around the neck, instantly bringing the dagger to the helpless youth's throat and keeping the pistol aimed on Frank, who was still sitting in front of the open panel in the wall.

Motioning to Frank with the gun, he snapped, "Get up."

Reluctantly, Frank complied, wincing when he saw Joe in Martin's unyielding grip. A drop of blood slid down from where the knife had barely punctured Joe's skin. Frank heard his brother whimper slightly and his blood turned to ice.

"Let. Joe. Go. NOW!" He ordered.

Instead of complying, Martin dug the blade in deeper, causing a small stream of blood to escape the open wound.

"Do you have anything else to say?" Martin asked gleefully. "Or am I going to have to cut deeper because of your mouth?"

"No, please. I'll stop," Frank whispered, not taking his eyes off his brother's pale face.

Martin considered this for a moment, then smiled. "Take off your belt."

Shocked by the strange and potentially perverted order, Frank immediately and unthinkingly snapped, "No!"

The knife went in deeper into Joe's tender flesh and fresh blood gushed out of the wound. "Would you like to save me some trouble and have me just go ahead and slit his throat? Or would you rather take off your belt and tie your feet with it and give your brother a few extra minutes to live?"

Paling, and feeling an overwhelming guilt at causing his brother so much agony, Frank instantly took off his belt and sat down, tying his ankles firmly with it.

"Good," said Martin. "Now put your hands under your butt and don't move or your brother will wind up not unlike Edmund did so many years ago." He then put the pistol away, and his knife still firmly pressed into Joe's throat, ordered Joe to take off his belt as well. Joe did so shakily, fumbling with the buckle. Martin used the belt to tie Joe's hands behind his back. He then shoved the youngest Hardy to the ground and removed his own belt, using the offending item to bind Joe's ankles. The younger boy lay bleeding and tied up at his feet. Martin reached over and moved Joe so that he was leaning against the wall, right next to Frank.

Martin took the journal and began to rifle through the pages, making sure his gun was always within reach so that Frank, with his hands free, albeit, going numb under his rear, wouldn't try anything. As he read, Joe worked up the courage to accuse.

"So you are the great grandson of Valarie Prince."

Not lifting his eyes from the pages, Martin agreed. "A brilliant woman."

Choosing not to retort, Joe went on. "And you did everything we assumed you did. You killed those four boys, making it look like an accident, two suicides, and a spider bite. You murdered Tanya tonight."

Martin's eyes widened. "How did you know about that?"

Realizing that Martin had no idea that the student center had actually been haunted and that Tanya's ghost had appeared as well, Frank joined in the conversation, hoping to surprise and distract Martin long enough to take him down. His eyes roved around the nearby objects and saw a metal basin lying within touching distance. He had to keep Martin talking.

"We know a lot of things," Frank said haughtily. "You took Tanya on her way to the restroom. You brought her up here, told her about how you were going to find and destroy the evidence, and then you stabbed her."

Martin stared. "But how do you—"

Joe, realizing what Frank was up to, decided to go out on a limb and speculate some more, trying to get Martin's attention focused solely on him so that Frank could move in.

"The reason why you hated me so much was because I look so much like Edmund did. You were one of the few people who knew what he looked like, since you had been up here plenty of times before searching for the journal. I probably got into the class because you wanted to learn more about me and keep an eye on me. I thought there was something odd about a Freshman getting into one of your classes." He shook his head sadly, ignoring the painful protest of his cut neck. "You really could have had a good career going. Why did you obsess so much over people not finding out that Valarie had really killed Edmund?"

His voice high-pitched and nervous, indicating for the first time that the man was probably anything but stable, Martin screeched, "Because Valarie was going to kill me if I didn't! I could hear her in my head, telling me to stop them and I knew that I had to destroy all evidence or she would kill me…from the inside out."

At the moment when Martin was the weakest and most vulnerable, Frank, his feet still tied, lunged for the basin and then for Martin, hitting the guy on the head with such force that the man immediately passed out.

With a relieved sigh, Frank quickly untied his legs then released Joe, hurrying back down the stairs and into the party where their bloody and ragged appearances would cause mayhem and emotional turmoil for one Kevin Torez for many years to come.

* * *

_Two Months Later_

Frank and Joe Hardy, along with Matthew Parson, sat with Kevin in Frank and Kevin's room. "Thanks for being there for me, guys," Kevin said hoarsely. I was kind of afraid that when I came back to school, everyone would treat me weird. But you guys have been incredible."

Kevin had been at home for the past few months, grieving Tanya's death with his family and Tanya's. When the boys had first informed Kevin about her murder, they conveniently failed to mention the fact that she tried to kill

Joe after she had died. Not only would that have tarnished Kevin's memory of her, but it probably would have gotten the brothers sent to the same mental facility where Professor Zachariah Martin was confined in maximum security right now.

When Kevin had come back to school, Frank, Joe, and even Matt had been there for the grieving boy every step of the way.

"I know it's hard," Joe said, giving his friend a pat on the leg. He had almost completely recovered from his encounter with Martin; only a thin scar tracing the front of his neck told of the terrifying battle in the top floors of the student center on Halloween night. "I lost my first true love in a car bombing meant for me almost two years ago…I still can't help but think about Iola sometimes…"

Kevin nodded. "Tanya was special. I'm just glad 'Professor' Martin won't be able to hurt anyone ever again. What was up with him anyway?"

Frank promptly answered. "He was evaluated and declared mentally unstable. He is skitsofrantic, hearing Valarie's voice inside his head, telling him to commit all those murders. The doctors believe that he became this way after obsessing so much on the past that it destroyed his life and future."

Matt shuddered. "That dude was even more wack than you, dude, with all your crazy dreams!" he joked, jabbing Joe playfully in the ribs.

Frank and Joe exchanged meaningful glances. "Hey, maybe I wasn't all that crazy, after all," Joe said indignantly, winking at his brother.

"Yeah, I think my 'baby brother' found out the hard way that sometimes, dreams really can come true," Frank said in a sappy voice.

Kevin and Matt looked on in confusion as the brothers broke into laughter at a joke only they could understand.

Joe had had no more nightmares after that fateful Halloween night.

Life was good.

**THE END**


End file.
